A Candy Christmas Carol
by KindredKandies
Summary: Christmas is viewed in two very different ways by Michael and Maria.
1. Chapter 1

**A Candy Christmas Carol**

 **Author(s):** KindredKandies

 **Disclaimer:** All characters and plot lines that appeared in the series or in the books are not ours. The concept of Roswell does not belong to us either. They all belong to Melinda Metz, UPN, yada, yada, yada…

 **Pairings:** Predominantly M&M with bits of M&L and K&I

 **Rating: Rating:** Teen

 **Category:** Post-Graduation

 **Summary:** Christmas is viewed in two very different ways by Michael and Maria.

 **Part One**

 _ **Maria's POV**_

She flinched when the door slammed behind him. Why did he have to be such a jerk?! All of this over a stupid question. She was exhausted, she was tired and achy from being cooped up in the car for nearly twenty hours practically nonstop, she was angry at being uprooted and moved across the country yet again, and she was hurt over having to leave behind a friend without so much as a goodbye. To put it plain and simple, she was weary of it all.

Yes, she wanted to settle down, to stay in one place long enough to see the seasons change. She wanted to have friends she didn't expect to leave high and dry without a word. She wanted a house with a little yard and maybe a swing on the front porch. She wanted to get married and have kids. And yes, she wanted a damn dog! And she wanted all of that with Michael. For Pete's sake, was that really asking so much?

Barely twenty-four hours ago he had come bursting through the back door and upended the life she'd carefully constructed over the past year. Things had gone well for the first few months and they had settled into some semblance of routine. Then November had rolled around and she hadn't been able to miss the signs of restlessness in him. The company he had been working for offered plenty of overtime as the holidays closed in and he hadn't once turned the extra shifts down.

It was the first year they were going to actually be stationary for Christmas and she'd welcomed the opportunity to make their home feel warm and festive for the holidays. Her job had allowed her plenty of time to run errands, cook, clean and spend time with her friend Stephanie. The two of them had spent hours shopping and gushing over trees and ornaments, potential gifts and decorating ideas.

His schedule kept him at work most of the time and there were days when it seemed like they only saw each other in passing. He'd be on his way in when she was on her way out to work and other than a quick kiss and instructions on heating the dinner she'd left for him, there wasn't any time for them as a couple. She'd felt that distance beginning to take a toll on her and she'd dug her heels in, determined to make their home last this time.

She'd lost count of the number of fights they'd had recently, but she knew their frequency was increasing. They were fighting more than they ever had in the past. Her fear was that they were fighting for two very different reasons. She was fighting to hold on and that door she kept closed on her deepest fears where he was concerned had managed to come open and she was having a very hard time convincing herself that she was wrong about him. It didn't matter how hard she held on or how much she wanted to hold onto him because her doubts had taken over and now she feared he wanted out, wanted to be free from being tied down.

Her footsteps slowed as she made another pass by the window. She could hear the car running, knew he was warming up the engine, and she wondered where he was going. The cabin was miles from the nearest town and every time the wind blew there was a high pitched whistling sound that accompanied the frigid air that forced its way through the fine cracks where the logs no longer quite fit together.

This wasn't the way she'd imagined this Christmas would be. She'd worked so hard to make the house festive and perfect for the holiday. And it had almost been there. She sighed as she pictured the house she'd made into a home for them. The fireplace spreading comfortable warmth throughout the room, the Christmas tree decorated and lit, the twinkling lights cheerfully blinking softly, a CD of Christmas music playing on the second hand stereo in the corner, and a fresh wreath of fir, cedar and juniper with pine cones interspersed in the greenery gracing their front door.

She turned away from the window and her disgusted gaze rested on the moose head hanging over the fireplace. It wasn't bad enough that someone had hung the carcass on the wall. No, they had festively strung a strand of white twinkling lights through the wide antlers and perched a moth-eaten Santa hat on its head. She shook her head and shifted to look out the window again when she heard the crunch of packed snow under the tires as the car pulled away.

Against her will her thoughts went back to their latest fight and she felt a new wave of despair crash over her, threatening to pull her under and never release her. Maybe this was it. Maybe he'd stuck it out as long as he could and he was ready to move on without her. Maybe he just didn't know how to tell her he was through. She brushed the tears away angrily as the words thrown back and forth between them replayed in her head.

" _Why are we running again? Why now?" She paced furiously, desperately turning over potential reasons and discarding them just as fast, until she came down to one irrefutable conclusion. He'd passed the point where his fear that his alien side might be turned loose, that losing his temper would destroy his control and he'd hurt her, was an issue. Over the years he'd become stronger, more in control of his abilities. He could even drink a beer or two without any issues these days._

 _It had to be something else and the only thing that she could come up with was her. Being with her was making him feel trapped. What else could it be? Thinking back over the past few months she could see the cracks in their relationship widening to become chasms. She'd seen the little house as a home. She'd lovingly put it together one dishtowel and a pair of curtains at a time. She'd been enjoying the freedom to live, to spread her wings and put down roots at the same time. He'd been working and occasionally stopping off at the pub for a beer while catching a game. He hadn't really made any friends, had never brought any of the guys home to watch a game or help him work on the car or fix a leak._

 _She had been thriving and he'd continued to isolate himself. She'd been aware of it, had put it down to his lack of social skills. He wasn't a wallflower but he wasn't an extrovert either. She sighed internally as she remembered the one time she could recall him out with a group of guys, openly laughing and goofing off. What she wouldn't give to see him have that again. She thought about all of the extra shifts he'd taken lately. They were doing okay financially, there was no pressing need for the money, but he'd jumped on every opportunity to work extra hours, hours that had kept him away from home… away from her._

 _The only thing that made sense was that while she had embraced stability and permanence, craved a semi-normal life with him, those same desires were pushing him away. That's what it was, she realized, and felt her throat close up. He was running from settling down with her. It wasn't what he wanted. It had been years since there had been any sign that they were still being pursued but he continued to keep them on the move._

" _Why is it that Max and Liz and Kyle and Isabel were able to put down roots and carve out a life for themselves and we can't? For the past four years Max and Liz have been stable, they've had a home in Moose Jaw, they've had an opportunity to pursue their education, and even had a child. It's been more than five years for Kyle and Isabel. They have two kids now, Michael! Two! None of them have had to pick up and run in the middle of the night, leave everything behind. Why is that?"_

 _The only response she got was silence accompanied by his patented stonewall expression. There was no reasoning with him when he was like this and she knew it but she couldn't let it rest. Not this time._

" _You know why," he bit out finally. "We left because of a threat."_

 _Her hands clenched into fists and she could feel the heat flood her face as her frustration finally spilled over. Sometimes she wondered why she bothered trying to get anything through his thick skull. "You're not listening to me, Michael."_

" _Well, maybe if you quit ranting about the same subject over and over again you'd have somethin' to say that I'd wanna listen to."_

 _She wished she could hate him sometimes because it would be easier than this. "Why couldn't we have stayed in Winnipeg? Close enough to Kyle and Isabel, closer to Max and Liz if anything happened… close enough just to visit once in a while. It would make sense. It did make sense when it was first discussed and you discounted it out of hand. Why are you uprooting us again?"_

 _She watched him, desperately hoping, needing him to say something that would make sense. She needed something to hold onto, something besides the same old story. And again she was met with silence and the impenetrable wall he surrounded himself with. "I want a dog, Michael. I need to have a dog." She shifted and crossed her arms in front of her. "A big black dog named Angus."_

" _We're not getting a dog, Maria. What the hell are you thinkin'? We can't be on the run with a damn dog! Yeah, let's get somethin' that makes us easier to identify! Let's get somethin' that requires money to maintain!" He started to pace, throwing his hands up in the air. "You know we can't stay in one place long enough for somethin' like that to ever be viable!"_

 _She nodded sadly. "I can't do this anymore."_

 _Michael turned slowly, narrowing his eyes as he stared at her._

" _It hurts too much, Michael. My heart can't take it." And she honestly didn't think it could take much more. "Why is it okay for everyone else to settle down, have a home and a family, and the two of us continue to run? Why can't you even give in on this one little request and let us have a dog?"_

She watched the taillights disappear into the darkness, the pain in her heart growing to encompass every inch of her being. Tears she couldn't stop formed in her eyes and spilled over in spite of her wishes.

He'd never left before.

He'd never just walked out.

 _ **Michael's POV**_

The door slammed behind him, the force aided by the high winds and not intent alone. He needed to get away because the walls were closing in and he felt like he was suffocating. She had pushed them into yet another argument. It felt like anymore that was all they did. Argue, fight, disagree, tentative truce, rinse and repeat.

Nine years. They had been on the run for nine years and all of the sudden she wanted a dog? How did she expect them to drag a dog around while moving from place to place? Having an animal would mean an additional responsibility; it would mean having something that would make them more easily identifiable.

A hard shiver raced through his body as the wind whipped around the corner of the cabin, cutting through him like a thousand tiny knives. He jerked his coat tighter around his body, grateful he'd at least remembered to grab it before storming out. Times like these he wondered why they stayed together.

How could she not understand?

He swore out loud when the heel of his boot landed on an icy patch on the walkway – the same walkway Maria had been hounding him about salting from the minute he walked in the door. His feet went out from under him so quickly that he didn't even have time to control or cushion his fall. He flipped himself over, his temper shifting into overdrive when he felt the pain pulsing from every point of contact. That number increased significantly when he miscalculated as he tried to get to his feet without checking for solid footing and his foot slipped and he slammed his knee against the pavement.

That smarted. Snarling under his breath he shuffled over enough so he could dig his feet into the snow. Finally on his feet again he stomped down to the car, careful to keep off of the icy walkway. His dark mood only worsened as he dug through the trunk, pulling out the necessary items and shoving them into the backseat.

He started to climb inside but his attempt was immediately thwarted because there was no room for his large frame. He swore once again and reached down to jerk on the lever and shoved the seat as far back as he could get it. He threw himself into the seat and slammed the door, shutting off the wind tunnel. He forced the key in the ignition and gave it a vicious turn, holding it in place until the engine finally turned over and rumbled to life. It was a decent vehicle but in moments like these it was nothing more than a piece of crap. He shifted and shoved his hands under his thighs, hoping to keep them from freezing until the engine was warm enough to turn the heater on.

His teeth were on the verge of literally chattering by the time he slapped the control for the heater and adjusted the temperature. He threw the gearshift into drive and pulled out, smart enough not to gun the engine in spite of the desire to throw caution to the wind and do just that. He ignored the movement he caught from the corner of his eye, knowing without looking he wouldn't see Maria standing at the window. The only evidence she had been there would be the slight sway of the curtain she had just dropped.

"A dog," he muttered with an aggravated snort. "What the hell does she think we'd do with a dog?"

Technology was changing rapidly, too fast to keep up with, and maybe some people saw those changes as a good thing. Maybe people were blind to the reality that they were giving up any semblance of privacy as technology became so advanced. He'd watched it change over the years, warily observing its evolution, concerned as the advancements made it easier for the government to keep tabs on people.

The threat was real. If everyday people had the capability of getting their hands on such things then the Special Unit was already way ahead of them. He knew being on the run was no life for her but it wasn't safe for them to stay anywhere for long. He'd pushed it this last time, letting their stay drag out for nearly a year.

He'd found a dependable job that brought in a decent paycheck, she'd had a good gig singing at a local pub, they'd had a house that while small, was nice, and for the first time in a long time she'd had a friend she could spend time with. She'd had the house decorated for Christmas and all the festive crap that had made her so happy had made him feel like he was choking. He'd been happy to accept extra shifts when they came available. And he'd felt a sick sense of relief when he'd spotted a couple of suspicious black SUVs in town because that meant it was time to move again.

He wasn't indifferent to her needs, but her safety was more important than anything else. He'd had a fight on his hands when he said they had to drop everything and leave. They'd left behind jobs, a home and her friend without so much as a word. He'd pushed hard to get them far enough away that he felt it was safe to stop. Nearly 800 miles between them and the place they'd called home and it felt like every one of those miles stood between him and Maria.

He knew she'd been happier in the past year than she had been in a very long time. The constant running had taken its toll on her, stolen years he could never give back to her, and he couldn't see an end in sight. He pulled into a lookout that looked down on the cabin, killed the lights and cut the engine. He sighed raggedly and shifted around to grab the sleeping back he'd tossed in before leaving.

It was fitting that he should spend the night cold and uncomfortable. Hell, he'd just uprooted her from the only real home she'd had in years, driven her across the country and multiple states without stopping for more than fuel, and then dropped her in a cold, drafty dump of a hunting cabin. There wasn't an ounce of Christmas cheer in the cabin, which was fine with him, but he knew it only made things more depressing for her.

It didn't help that Max and Liz had been settled for almost four years and even longer for Kyle and Isabel. They had carved out lives for themselves, real lives with homes, education, good jobs and kids. He knew Maria wanted a home, stability, a sense of permanence, kids… and a dog. He didn't seem to be able to give her any of that. Hell, he couldn't even find it in himself to give in and let her have a stupid dog. Maybe he was incapable of settling down. Maybe he should find a way to get her to Max and Liz, give her the opportunity to make a life for herself there.

Canada had proven to be a safe and comfortable place for the others to settle. Moose Jaw wouldn't be Maria's first choice, but because Liz was there he knew she could be happy there. Kyle and Isabel had landed in Calgary, a much larger city that they could easily lose themselves in. Seven hours apart, give or take, depending on weather and traffic. They were close enough to see each other on occasion but far enough apart for safety's sake.

There had been talks about them settling in Winnipeg, which would put Max and Liz central to the rest of them, but he'd balked at the idea. He hadn't agreed with the others' decisions to stop running, to settle and put down roots, but his arguments had fallen on deaf ears. Maria had tried to talk him into changing his mind and they had gotten into many fights over it, but he'd refused to be swayed in his belief that their safety depended on their ability to flee at a moments' notice.

The longer they stayed in one place the harder it would be to leave. He had lost count of the number of times they'd had to pick up and move, but he had a vivid memory of the entire repertoire of disappointed, hurt and angry responses Maria had given at the news that they were leaving whatever place they'd been calling home at the time.

He knew this last one had been the hardest since the six of them had split up. A year had given her time to begin planting roots. A job she loved for once, something better than just waiting tables and putting up with crap from customers, a little house that she'd turned into a home, complete with a small flower garden and new paint in every room, and a friend that she had become very close to.

He stared at the cabin as he pulled the sleeping bag tighter around himself in an effort to stop the cold from seeping into his bones. The light was on in the main room but there was no movement to suggest she was pacing the floor, working out her anger and hurt through constant motion. He wondered if she'd simply gone to bed, too weary of the constant fight to bother waiting for him to come back.

He stared at the roof of the car, not even seeing the torn lining or the spots where soda had splashed all over it when he'd pissed her off and she'd handed him the can after shaking the hell out of it while he wasn't looking. The damn thing had exploded all over the car and stained the interior. They had laughed about it later and cleaned the mess up but left the stains as a reminder. He shook his head and closed his eyes, hoping to rest them and make sense of what the hell had gotten into Maria to make her think getting a dog would be a good idea.

"I guess that's better than puttin' your hand through a window."

Michael jerked upright so fast he smacked his forehead on the visor he'd dropped to block the moon that was doing its best to blind him. His back hit the door as he turned to look at the guy sitting in the passengers' seat and he reached up to rub his eyes, certain he was seeing things. Okay, maybe eating that package of cookies on top of a beer was a mistake. He blinked and frowned when the apparition remained sitting there, doing his best to balance a pen on his chin in the upright position.

"I thought we'd agreed that no chick was worth this."

His eyes traveled over the other guy in disbelief. "What the hell…?" It wasn't possible. He'd been dead for ten years.

"Yeah, and you'd think I'd have this trick mastered by now," he muttered when the pen toppled over and he fumbled to catch it.

Michael stared at one of the few people he'd actually considered a friend over the course of his lifetime. This wasn't real, he reminded himself. He'd held the guy's lifeless body in his arms after he'd been fatally shot.

Monk straightened the bill of his standard issue security job baseball hat and adjusted his glasses before he turned his head to look at Michael. "Then again, you'd think you'd have gotten better at Madden by now and well, that hasn't worked out so great for you. Anyway, I'm not here to dis your game, Mike."

"Uh-huh…" He pinched himself and frowned at the stinging sensation. He couldn't be asleep so what the hell was going on?

"I can answer that." He ran his hands over his tie in a gesture that was painfully familiar. "I'm here to tell you that you'll be getting three visitors beginning – "

Michael snorted and shook his head. "Right. Okay, I saw this movie and it sucked. I can assure you I'm not gonna be hangin' out with three ghosts at the strike of one, two and three."

"No, you're right about that."

"At least we're agreed on that point." He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted around to get comfortable again. This was ridiculous. Obviously the combination of beer and too many cookies had him hallucinating.

"Your first visitor will arrive at one forty-seven and the others will arrive an hour apart after that, an hour to the minute. You're on the edge of something you don't even understand right now and they'll be able to help you find clarity."

"Okay, sure they will. I'll be on the lookout for a ghostly apparition haulin' around a bunch of chains. In the meantime I'm gonna get some sleep." He pulled the sleeping bag up over his shoulders and closed his eyes.

"It wasn't your fault, you know?"

"Plenty of things are my fault. Which one are you referring to?"

"The night I got shot. We were both doin' our job." He shrugged even though his companion wasn't looking at him. "There was nothin' you could've done. I just wanted you to know that."

"Yeah, well…" he peered over the edge of the sleeping bag and froze when the passengers' seat was empty with no sign that it had been recently occupied. He cursed under his breath and pulled the sleeping bag closer. It was cold up here in the frozen wasteland he'd brought them to and now his eyes and ears were playing tricks on him. That was all he needed. He sat up to take one more look at the cabin below before settling down again.

Maybe if he could get to sleep the night would pass without his head screwing with him again. He closed his eyes and pulled in tighter on himself, his thoughts focusing on Maria and hoping to figure out why she wanted a damn dog of all things this year.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two**

 _ **Michael's POV**_

The horn blared to the tune of some obnoxious Christmas song and Michael bolted upright for the second time that night. His forehead impacted with the visor and he swore effusively as he reached out blindly for the power button on the stereo. It took a few seconds for his senses to kick in and alert him to the fact that the stereo wasn't on. The car was off and colder than a meat locker and suddenly he was surrounded by silence.

"What the hell is goin' on?" he muttered, glancing towards the cabin in the distance and freezing when his eyes locked on the vast emptiness of a snow covered landscape. He fought with the door and nearly fell out of the car when it gave in to brute force. He scrambled to his feet and ran to the edge of the overlook, scanning every inch of the countryside. He turned in a tight circle and panic gripped him when he saw nothing but unbroken white in every direction.

He whirled around, intending to get in the car and drive back to the cabin, and he took an involuntary step back when the car and any tracks indicating it was ever there were all gone. He had to get to Maria. That was the only thing that mattered. But when he turned around the overlook was gone and there was nothing to tell him if he was even facing the right direction.

"Scary prospect, isn't it?"

Another voice from the past. Another voice that he couldn't possibly be hearing. He was dreaming, that's all it was.

"More like a nightmare if you ask me."

He slowly turned his head to look at the other guy, taking in the loose-limbed stance, hands casually tucked in the front pockets of his jeans, the oversized gray sweatshirt and the mildly amused expression. No, he wasn't gonna stand here and have a conversation with another dead person. It wasn't like he and Alex had been that close.

"Way to make a guy feel good."

"You're not here anyway."

"Maybe I need to take another swing at you to get your attention."

Michael ignored him. Focus on Maria and the damn dog situation. Just stay on target and things will go back to normal. After a few minutes he opened his eyes and nodded to himself when he was once more sitting in the car. He sat up and looked over the steering wheel, relieved when the cabin with its lighted window came into view. Okay, that was better.

"People associate dogs with permanence."

His head jerked to the side and he stared at Alex. This night was not getting any better.

"What the hell are you goin' on about?" he growled.

"You're tryin' to understand Maria's sudden desire for a dog, right?" He shrugged and abruptly changed topics. "You do know people freeze to death in cars up here, don't you?"

"People drown in their bathtubs too, what's your point?"

"It's freezing out here."

"Yeah, well, I'm sure it's not gonna bother you."

"No, but then again I wasn't thinkin' about myself."

"What do you know about cold anyway? You were raised in the damn desert."

"Sweden's cold."

"Yeah, well, you were never in Sweden, were you?" This was stupid. He was really sitting here talking to a ghost. No. No, he wasn't. It was a dream.

"No, but it's funny what you can believe and think you know when your brain's been infiltrated by an evil alien force. I wasn't there, but I can still feel the cold." He shook himself. "Anyway, we're not here to discuss me. Maria and permanence, that's what we're here to discuss." He reached over and put a hand on Michael's shoulder. "Remember this?"

Michael stared at the hand on his shoulder. He could feel it. Alex was a ghost. And he could feel his hand. "What?" he asked, his tone distracted. He turned when Alex gestured to something behind him.

Maria sat on the porch steps of the house she had grown up in. Seven years old, face streaming with tears and revealing the kind of heartache and abandonment only a child could ever truly understand. The Dalmatian pressed as tight as it could to her side, mindless of the small arms threatening to cut off its air supply, its only concern to ease her suffering.

"Already seen this," he muttered and looked away. Her pain was open and so raw it cut him to the quick.

"The dog is a symbol of stability, safety, comfort and permanence. Dogs represent what home is."

"It's somethin' that'd only bog us down, make us easily identifiable."

Alex smiled mysteriously. "One thing at a time, Michael." He nodded at the child clutching the dog like a lifeline. "You never had a dog, you don't understand the connection, but it's an important part of life. Maria's at a place where the need for that connection is more than the simple desire for companionship."

Michael looked at him sharply. "What're you sayin'?"

He just smiled enigmatically. "C'mon, it's time for us to move on."

Before he could question Alex further the snow swirled in a sudden blinding whiteout and just as quickly calmed, leaving them on a quiet city street that he didn't recognize. It was a picturesque scene, serene in a way only felt when standing outside surrounded by the unbroken silence of snowfall. Years ago he wouldn't have understood that silence but they'd spent more than one winter in cities and towns with weather of this nature and over time he'd grown to appreciate it if not exactly love it.

The first time Maria had stood with him in this kind of silence she'd told him to listen to the snow fall. He'd thought she was crazy. How could you hear something so inconsequential? As soon as he'd opened his big mouth she'd been off and running, going on about how enough of those inconsequential snowflakes could collapse a roof or bury a house. He'd been sorry he'd ever opened his mouth… but it had also given him something to think about. Not that he'd ever admit that out loud.

"Listen… can you hear it?"

Michael narrowed his eyes as he looked at Alex. "If you start talkin' about listening to snowflakes fall you're gonna be askin' for more than just your two front teeth for Christmas."

Alex chuckled at the empty threat and shook his head. "Just listen."

Silence followed them as they walked and several minutes passed before he heard the sound of a dog whining. He turned to look at the dog. Small, white, dark eyes peering up at them from behind a fringe of hair that flopped over its face, it was a mix of some kind. It was alone, probably lost because it looked well cared for, curiosity and fear warring with its innate need to be with its human. It shivered as the wind gusted, blinking against the snow that blew into its face.

"Poor guy," Alex said sympathetically. "It's cold out."

"So?" He wasn't cold and heartless but he also wasn't interested in getting involved. What was he even talking about? It was a dream!

"He looks lost, don't you think? Alone, scared, out in a world that doesn't seem the least bit welcoming."

"Why're we out in the cold again?" He turned to start walking again, ignoring the dog when it began to follow them.

"Gabriel! Gabriel, where are you?" An elderly woman's frantic voice cut through the silence and a moment later she appeared before them, her hasty gait impeded by the cane that was obviously needed to aid in her ability to walk. "Oh, there you are!"

Michael didn't have time to move out of her way but it didn't seem to matter as she walked right through him. Well, that was a bit disconcerting.

"I thought I'd lost you!" Relief colored her voice as she carefully bent over to pick the animal up. She continued to speak to the dog that was happy to see her judging by the tail-wagging, body-wriggling, tongue-licking that accompanied its raspy bark. After a few minutes she pulled her shawl around the dog, protecting him from the wind and snow and continued on her way.

"There, happy now? It's got a place to go."

"Yeah," he nodded at the building the woman was now paused in front of. She reached up to wipe her eyes and bestowed a shaky kiss to the dog's head before she stepped into the entryway.

Michael followed his gaze, surprised to see the name of the business over the door. "Okay, so it's an animal shelter. So what?"

"Just sayin' it's not a real home."

"Stop right there, Whitman." He wasn't comfortable with the path Alex was taking. "She's givin' the dog up for whatever reason. At least she's not kickin' it out in the street. It's got a shot this way. It'll be fed and its needs will be seen to and eventually someone will adopt it."

"Yeah, probably. That doesn't make it a real home though, does it?" He gathered up his wallet chain and shoved his hands in his pockets as he looked around. "Our time is almost up and we've got one stop left."

Once again the snow swirled around them in a blinding whiteout and in the blink of an eye he found himself someplace he never wanted to be again. The dingy trailer he'd grown up in materialized around him and a shudder racked his tall frame as he was assaulted by memories. Something was off though. He realized it immediately and he frowned as he tried to pinpoint the difference.

It only took a few moments. This wasn't the way the trailer had looked the last year he'd lived there. There was a raggedy Christmas tree in one corner, something that had only graced the dump once in all of his years with Hank. "Why're we here?"

"You want to know why she wants a dog, Michael? She wants permanence, craves it the way you once did."

Why couldn't he wake up? He didn't want to remember his introduction to Christmas. He hadn't understood how he was different. He'd only known that he wasn't the same as other kids. But when he'd been turned over to Hank he'd thought maybe it wouldn't be so bad. The man was rough and he didn't say things so much as yell at him, but he gave him food and clothes.

He swallowed hard when a light came on in the hall and a moment later Hank shuffled out into the living room. He was younger, his hair wasn't quite as thin, but his face was still drawn and lined by more bad years than good, and his eyes were still sunken and lifeless. He watched the man move into the kitchen, open up the cabinet above the sink and pull out several packages wrapped in holiday paper. He stuck them under the pathetic excuse for a Christmas tree and then got a beer from the refrigerator. He took a long drink, set it on the counter and grabbed a long metal spoon. His lips thinned into a grin as he picked up a pot and beat the spoon against it.

"Up an' at 'em, boy!" He dropped the pot and spoon on the counter, mindless of the racket it made. He moved to the tree to plug in the single strand of lights, backtracked to retrieve his beer and relocated to the living room where he dropped down in his recliner.

Seven-year-old Michael came stumbling out of his room, rubbing his eyes, and trying to adjust to the abrupt wakeup call. His sleepy eyes widened in amazement when the twinkling lights drew his gaze and he ran over to the tree. He gnawed on his bottom lip as he stared at the packages wrapped in brightly colored paper and he reached out a tentative hand to touch the one closest to him.

He'd seen some of the kids in his class exchange gifts, tearing into them with joy and abandon, and he'd been jealous. He'd found Max and Isabel fairly soon after being placed with Hank because they were in the same class at school and the three of them had known immediately that they were supposed to be together. It had been instinctual and none of them had ever thought to question it. Max had shrugged when he asked about the gifts but Isabel had given him a very thorough explanation. Gifts like toys meant your parents loved you. Gifts like socks and underwear meant your parents cared. He still wasn't too sure about that last one, because who wanted gifts like that? But Isabel was the one who knew stuff like that so he'd figured she was probably right.

He hadn't expected to get anything though. Isabel had given him a puzzle book and Max had given him a little toy car. He'd felt bad when he hadn't had anything to give them and he'd tried to give their gifts back to them but they wouldn't take them. He was okay with not getting anything from Hank. The man let him live in his trailer and gave him food and clothes. He didn't feel right asking for anything. That didn't mean he didn't want anything.

"Go on, boy, open 'em up."

The weight of the boxes never registered as he grabbed the first one and tore into it the way he'd seen the kids at school open them. Confusion had wrinkled his young features when the wrapping paper was torn away and the lid of the box flung aside to reveal nothing but emptiness within the confines of the box.

"Better try again."

Four times he went through the process only to be disappointed when each box was empty. The fifth time there was no enthusiasm as he peeled the paper back and lifted the lid to reveal yet another empty box. He didn't understand but he didn't know how to voice his confusion.

Michael watched the scene unfolding and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't get rid of the lump in his throat. He knew what was coming, could feel the maelstrom of emotions crashing against the fragile walls of his younger self as he sat surrounded by torn Christmas paper and empty boxes, but no matter how much he wanted to he couldn't look away.

"Guess next year you'll know better than to hope for anything more than what you got, won't you?"

The sneer in Hank's voice made the little boy look up. Even at seven years old he knew Hank wasn't a nice man, but he hadn't known just how mean he could be until that morning next to the Christmas tree. He forced the tears down and started collecting the shredded paper and boxes to haul to the trash.

"You know why you're here, Mickey?" He took a drink of his beer and frowned when he realized it was empty. "See, the state gives me a check every month to keep you around. That's right," he nodded when the boy looked at him, "I get paid to keep you because no one else wants you."

He didn't know why Hank refused to call him by his name but the pain and anger burning inside of him gave him the courage to let his defiance loose. He stood up and faced Hank, opening his mouth to speak, but he never got a word out. It was the first time Hank had ever hit him but it wasn't the last.

He had learned a painful lesson that day – several lessons in fact. If you didn't have expectations you couldn't be disappointed. If you didn't open yourself up you couldn't be hurt. If you didn't rely on others, didn't trust them, you wouldn't leave yourself open to betrayal. He had learned to live with that reality. He'd made the rare exception to his rules, especially where Maria was concerned, but even with her he knew he was holding back.

"It's not just Maria you have to trust, Michael." Alex looked at him as the scene faded away, leaving them once again sitting in the car. "You have to trust yourself. You're stronger than you think you are." The stereo came to life and music started blaring through the speakers. "Well, that's my cue. Hug my girls for me and remember what I said." He looked up and nodded. "Time for me to go. Your next visitor will be arriving soon."

And he was gone.

Michael looked around and scratched his head. What the hell was going on? He rubbed his arms as the chill from the cold car reminded him that he was basically sitting in the middle of a giant ice block. He was tempted to turn the car on just to have some heat for a few minutes but then decided the threat of falling asleep and dying of carbon monoxide poisoning wasn't worth it. Not that freezing was a better option as far as options went.

He pulled the sleeping bag tighter around himself and closed his eyes. He didn't know what had caused these weird dreams, maybe it was the beer and cookie combination. Whatever it was he hoped it had settled down because he was over it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part Three**

 _ **Michael's POV**_

Subconsciously he knew he was freezing and his body instinctively burrowed deeper into the sleeping bag in an effort to get away from the zipper that was ice cold even through the layers of clothes he wore. True warmth continued to elude him and he squeezed his shut eyes tighter when the sound of jingling bells reached his ears.

 _Maybe it was sleep deprivation,_ he rationalized. He ignored the little voice that tauntingly reminded him he'd gone well past thirty-six hours with no sleep before. It wasn't just the lack of sleep or the odd combination of food he'd consumed. So it had to be the stress of being on the run once again in addition to dealing with Maria's mood since he'd informed her they had to leave.

Sure, he understood she'd allowed herself to become attached to the little house over the time they'd lived there. She was a woman and they tended to do things like that. But this was the first time she'd given him so much grief over having to pick up and run. And then hitting him with the dog thing? He snorted softly in his sleep. Only a woman would be in a situation like they were in and suddenly decide she wanted a damn dog.

" _Maria's at a place where the need for that connection is more than the simple desire for companionship."_

He still had no idea what Alex had been going on about. He didn't just uproot them and hit the road because he enjoyed it. There was generally a reason behind everything he did, and in this case, her safety trumped her desire to stay in one place. And a dog? There was no way he was giving in on that one. The last thing they needed was something that would make them more obvious to anyone looking for them.

He shifted around and buried his nose in the top of the sleeping bag, unconsciously searching for warmth. It wasn't just his extremities that were being threatened by the extremely cold temperature, but as he slipped deeper into sleep he became less aware of the danger. The cold continued to creep past the fabric barrier, infiltrating his body like a well trained army advancing on its enemy… stealthy, insidious, intent on one purpose.

In his mind's eye he could see a familiar street and as he slowly turned he found himself facing the front of the Crashdown Café. It looked just like it had the last time he was there. His eye roved over the windows, peering inside to glance over the booths and tables that were filled with people he recognized from his years growing up in the small town. He took an involuntary step back when he saw Maria bustling around, taking orders, refilling coffee cups and making small talk with the customers.

What was going on?

"Mi-Ki!"

The frown on his forehead deepened at the childish screech and he whirled around as the wind blew heavily and stirred up the desert sand. His eyes stung and he raised a hand against the fine grains only to be surprised when he was faced with a blinding whiteout and a blast of icy wind. Warmth suddenly surrounded him, a direct contrast to his current situation, and he shivered uncontrollably.

"Mi-Ki!"

He'd only heard Caleb Evans' speak a couple of times. Max had been trying to get him to say his name only it had proven to be a bit cumbersome for the little boy and what he'd finally spit out had sounded more like Me-Key. The girls thought it was adorable and Max had just about busted the buttons on his shirt from sheer pride in his son's accomplishment. He could still remember that day clearly because as usual his reaction had been a disappointment.

Everyone had been so busy fawning over the kid and telling him what a great job he had done and he didn't get what the big deal was. Caleb had gotten his name wrong and they had made a big fuss about how amazing it was. Apparently he was supposed to sit there and lie to the kid and when he didn't he became the bad guy. Max had just shrugged it off and gone back to congratulating Caleb on his big accomplishment. Was it his fault if the way the kid said his name reminded him of the despised nickname Hank had saddled him with early on?

"Mi-Ki!" This time the screech was accompanied by the chimes of a grandfather clock and little fingers curling around his shirt. The material was pulled to the side by the little boy's weight and before he could open his eyes the kid landed on his midsection. He instinctively curled in on himself, determined to protect his body from the collateral damage of a misplaced foot, knee or elbow. It was hard to guess which limb was most likely to offend because little kids were painfully unpredictable.

Jingle bells rang agonizingly close to his face and his eyes flew open. He was on the couch in a living room he was familiar with because he'd been in it before. The room was decorated for Christmas and it looked like the holiday had upchucked all over the damn place. Christmas music was playing, stockings were actually hung by the chimney, probably with care, and a tree that was probably half the size of the room took up an entire corner, its branches loaded with ornaments and lights.

"Caleb, why don't you leave Uncle Michael alone and go find Daddy," Liz suggested as she leaned over to pick him up.

He gave Michael a big grin and leaned over to try and share his candy cane.

Michael jerked back before the offensive gift could stab him in the face and thankfully he was saved from forcing an appreciative response when Liz grabbed it. "Let's let Uncle Michael wake up first, okay?"

"Bye-bye, Mi-Ki!" He waved and tottered off to find his daddy.

"Thanks," he muttered gruffly.

"Well, an eyeball skewered on a candy cane would just be so messy for the Christmas card photo, don't you think?"

He scratched his head and tried to remember a time she had ever said anything so remotely tacky. No, in all the years he'd known her he couldn't recall a single moment like this. "Okay, I think this's gonna be worse than a walk with a ghost."

"Nonsense, it's just a little walk before breakfast."

He pushed himself upright and swung his legs over the side of the couch, ready to blast her with his thoughts on the absurdity of this nightmare he was trapped in. He froze and his mouth refused to cooperate when the scene shifted and he found himself sitting in a classroom. Instead of the eyesore of a Christmas tree he was now facing a chalkboard… complete with Liz in full teaching regalia holding a long thin stick that she was using to tap the board.

Tweed skirt suit, clunky low-heeled shoes, thick-rimmed glasses and her hair up in some kind of bun thing, it was the stuff of nightmares. It was the kind of nightmare that would likely haunt him the rest of his life. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead, willing the image to go away. Of all the things he had to see, was this really necessary?

A small hand tugged on his sleeve but he refused to look up. If he waited long enough this would pass and he could go back to what passed for normal in his world.

"Bye-bye, Mi-Ki!"

 _Bye-bye?_ The wind blew and a shiver raced down his spine, indicating he had returned to his frozen car in the middle of nowhere. _Yes, it was over!_

"Yeah, not just yet."

He scowled and opened his eyes, growling under his breath when he realized he was once again standing outside. He glared at Max, annoyed at the happy, relaxed look on his face as he stood there in a bright red parka. He was holding Caleb and the poor kid was wearing a stupid hat with ear flaps along with an identical coat to the one his daddy wore.

The little boy scrunched his face up and raised one hand to push the hat up off of his ears – ears that were just like his dad's. He watched as Max fixed his son's hat and distracted him with practiced ease, successfully sidestepping a temper tantrum over the hat he obviously didn't want to wear.

"This is all your fault, y'know."

"What?"

"The damn dog. She wants a damn dog."

"And that's my fault."

Max seemed amused more than anything else and that annoyed him to no end. "Yeah, it's your fault. You just had to drop out of the plan, dig in here and plant…" he huffed an irritated breath, "roots." He spit the word out like it had a bad taste to it.

"Well, I don't see how the dog thing's my fault."

"Because she wants what you and Liz have," he exploded.

Max rubbed his son's back when he jumped at the volume of Michael's voice, his little body tensing and his lower lip trembling in response. "It's alright, Caleb."

"Sorry," Michael muttered. The last thing he wanted to do was make the kid cry. He forced a small smile before focusing on his so-called friend.

"So, she wants a home in Moose Jaw?" He decided not to comment on the sad impersonation of a smile that Michael was showing off. It was an attempt and that was something.

Michael narrowed his eyes at the obtuse question but made an effort to keep his voice at a lower decibel. "Even in a damn dream you have to be difficult, don't you? She wants this whole stupid thing. After nearly ten years on the run how can she possibly think it's safe to just stay in one place for the rest of our lives?" He pointed at Max. "I'll tell you why she thinks that – because of you and Kyle. The two of you just up and decide it's time to settle down, run the risk of boxing yourselves in, and next thing I know she wants to do the same thing!"

"Have you ever stopped to think that maybe being on the run constantly makes you more of a target? Think about it, Michael. You both work, you have an apartment or a house, and then somethin' spooks you and you grab Maria and uproot your lives yet again."

"Hey, I know what I saw! You weren't there." No, he wasn't getting defensive. That was just the fact of the matter.

"You know what I think?"

"Does it matter?"

Max turned to point at a window that was decorated for Christmas and he smiled when Caleb leaned in close to press his gloved fingers to the cold pane of glass. Kittens chased each other around in the enclosed area, attracting the attention of passersby.

"I think the idea of settling down scares the heck out of you. I think you've spent a lifetime carrying scars from a childhood no one should ever have to deal with and you don't know how to embrace a so-called 'normal' life. Don't you think that maybe having a stable life is better for both of you?"

"I think it's dangerous," he grated out.

"And I think you saw what you needed to see to give you an escape."

"You seem to have an awful lot of time on your hands to think up these preposterous ideas."

"Just one of the advantages of bein' stationary," Max responded dryly. He looked at his little boy when Caleb grunted in frustration because he couldn't reach the kittens. "C'mon, let's go inside."

"For what?"

"Ask Caleb."

The little boy didn't wait for the question to be voiced, he was happy to share the news all on his own. "Mama kitty!"

"Cute," Michael muttered as he followed them inside. "You're not enough of a target bein' stationary so long, go for somethin' else that'll make you easy to identify." He shook his head and made a face when they walked past a glass enclosure with several ferrets inside. _Why would anyone want a pet around that smelled like that?_

"Michael, you're gonna have to stop runnin' eventually." He nodded when the shopkeeper joined them and leaned over to collect the kitten Caleb pointed out. He set his son down on the floor and crouched down beside him, accepting the small ball of calico fur the shopkeeper handed to him before leaving them alone again.

Michael leaned one shoulder against the wall, arms crossed over his chest while he observed his friend coaching his little boy, showing him how to hold the kitten. Max was a very patient man most of the time but that patience had grown well beyond anything he'd ever seen since Caleb had come into his life. But then again, Max had a great role model growing up. Philip Evans was a good man and he had known how to be a father. He was solid, upstanding, dependable, and he'd always been present.

"Why d'you think I'm runnin'?"

"Because I know you. You said Maria wants what Liz and I have, right?"

"So?"

"She wants stability, Michael, not a carbon copy of my marriage. The dog, it's another way of her asking for something more permanent. A dog, a house, those things aren't a way of boxing you in or setting you up to be captured. There's no guarantee regardless of the situation. But sometimes it takes more strength to find a spot and make a home than it does to keep running."

"You act like I enjoy bein' on the run."

Max looked up at him, his expression deadly serious. "Don't you?" He paused to glance at Caleb when he insisted on having his attention. "It's not bein' on the run you enjoy, Michael, it's the out it gives you. You can't really commit to anything, you can't settle down, and you can't make much of a life on the run."

"It keeps her safe," he argued.

"No, it's an illusion of safety. You think setting down would be dangerous, but think about it. You just uprooted the life you've had for the past year."

"Because of a threat," Michael interrupted.

"Denial," Max disagreed. "My point is you packed up the bare minimum and took off. No notice to your jobs because it's the holidays and you're both off. No call to Maria's friend because that's too risky. No notice to the landlord because you're buying time. So there're already four potential problems with the plan because one or more of those people could call in and report you guys as missing and at least one of them will call. Your pictures are on file with your jobs and I'm sure Maria's friend has pictures of the two of them, maybe even a few with you in them. So now there's visual identification that can be circulated in addition to the missing persons reports."

"It was a credible threat."

"Why? Because black SUVs are that out of character?" Max shook his head and stood with Caleb in his arms, wandering over to an aisle crammed end to end with collars, leashes and other pet accessories. "How credible was it really, Michael? Or was it even credible at all?"

Michael glared at him. Of course it was a credible threat! Two black SUVs rolling through the streets out of… His eyes narrowed. He was sure he hadn't mentioned anything about what he'd seen to Max. "How'd you know what the threat was?" he asked suspiciously.

"Your subconscious we're navigating here." He leaned forward so Caleb could pick up one of the collars – a red one with green holly forming a decorative chain and three tiny silver bells hanging from it. "That's the one Mama's gonna like?" he asked with a smile as he traced a fingertip over the festive design.

Caleb gave him a wide grin and nodded before focusing his attention back on the kitten he held. The ball of fur had curled up in his arms and was currently purring loud enough to make the little boy giggle every time the reverberations tickled him.

"Did Maria think you had reason to be suspicious?"

Michael's head snapped up at the unexpected question. "It was my call."

"It always is though, isn't it? She's not the one who decides to pull up stakes and run."

"What kind of stupid ass thing is that to say? Of course she's not the one who makes that decision. She knows if I say there's a threat then we have to move and she knows it's not something I decide without due consideration."

"She trusts you to make that call."

"That's right."

"Because she believes that her safety is of the utmost importance to you, that you love her enough to put her needs ahead of everything else, and that you only want what's best for the both of you."

"Yeah," he ground out from between clenched teeth.

"And she's fine with this new move?"

" _I can't do this anymore. It hurts too much, Michael. My heart can't take it."_

Her parting words had cut deep and he knew this time was different. He shoved that thought aside because he couldn't think about it. "No, you know what, she's not fine with it. She's pissed off about it, but she'll eventually realize that her safety outweighs a house with a garden and a damn tree in it."

"It's not about a house, Michael, but you know that. It's a house that she made into a home. It's a garden she planted and tended with her own two hands. It's a Christmas tree that she picked out and decorated herself because you were too busy to help out."

"I was workin' double shifts."

"Double shifts that you volunteered to work."

"Yeah, well, some people have families to spend the holidays with."

He watched Michael as he turned away and stared out the window. "You, my friend, are not that altruistic. You signed on for extra shifts so you wouldn't have to deal with the holiday. You've managed to be on the run around this time every year but it was different this year, wasn't it? You weren't on the run. You were starting to feel penned in, trapped by the holiday insanity, cornered by the reality that you guys were settling down, that you weren't living a transient existence, but that your temporary residence was becoming a home. And _that_ is why the sight of two black SUVs sent you running again."

"I don't have to explain myself to you." Michael rubbed his forehead and made a wish for this to all be over. He pressed his fingertips against gritty eyes and for just a moment the dry burning sensation ceased. Opening them once more he gazed out into the snowy scene, so picturesque and nauseatingly _perfect_ that it made his teeth ache. It figured Max would land on his feet in the middle of Perfectville. He was like a damn cat. Figured he'd pick out a feline as a gift for Liz.

"You're sure this is the one, sir?"

He glanced over his shoulder and watched Max place Caleb on the floor so he could settle the bill with the shopkeeper. The little boy leaned against his daddy's leg, staring longingly after the kitten that had been handed over to the shopkeeper. Movement caught his attention and his curious gaze sought out its source. Without even looking Max reached down and hooked a finger in the hood of Caleb's parka, holding him in place. He wondered how parents did that. It was like they had some sort of sixth sense or something where their kids were concerned.

Hank had been lacking that sixth sense. He could remember being out with Hank sometime before his eighth birthday, being told to stand outside the liquor store and wait while he went in to make a purchase. Something had caught his eye, something he couldn't recall to this day, and he'd moved from his designated waiting spot and gone after it. If he focused hard enough he could still hear the squeal of tires as a car braked to a sudden stop, could still feel the burning pain as he lost his balance and fell, his momentum causing his body to slide on the hot asphalt.

His foster father had come out of the store a couple of minutes later, brown bottle-shaped bag clutched in his left hand. He'd made a show of rushing over to him, hauling him up off of the ground, and assuring everyone there was no harm done. The impact of the car had done little more than startle him but the scrapes, burns, and bruises from his up close and personal meeting with the asphalt had been a different story. Hank had dragged him home and doused the wounds with alcohol, worsening the pain without benefit of warning or a single comforting word, and then given him a beating to remind him to stay put the next time they went out.

A familiar whine reached his ears, drawing him back from the nightmarish memory, and he turned his head to locate its owner. Gabriel, the small dog Alex had sort of introduced to him to, was sitting just outside the shop's door. It was in the process of closing behind a patron making his exit and at the last possible second the dog shot through the narrowing opening and paused to shake his coat of the snowflakes that had collected there.

He wondered why the dog was outside. He'd seen the old lady take it into a shelter. He scratched his head and tried to make sense of the disjointed pieces. The shelter Alex had shown him hadn't been in the location they had been in. But of course, it also didn't belong in Moose Jaw. And the chances a dog of Gabriel's stature surviving a trek between those locations was impossible given the extreme temperatures of the harsh winter and the predators he would encounter.

He watched the small dog as it crossed the shop slowly, seeming exhausted in spite of the lively look in its eyes when it spotted the child eagerly reaching out to it. Its tail began to wag slowly, the motion gaining momentum the closer he came to the tiny hand waiting. Caleb shrieked in delight when the dog licked his hand.

"Puppy, Daddy!"

"No, no, no," Max chuckled as he crouched down next to his little boy to give the dog a good rubdown. "We've got a kitty. Mama will have more than Daddy's head if we come home with a kitty _and_ a puppy. No, this little guy will find his furever home soon."

Did Max really just say the dog would find his _furever_ home? Michael made a face.

"No puppy?"

"No puppy, buddy." Max straightened up with Caleb once again in his arms. He accepted the small carrier with the kitten inside along with a bag of supplies before turning to his friend once more. "No, you're right, Michael, you don't have to explain yourself to me."

"Glad we're agreed on one thing."

"I'm gonna be your friend, your brother, no matter what. I'm not the problem you need to work out."

"I don't have a problem."

"So losin' Maria isn't a problem for you. Okay, my mistake, I thought that might be a major issue for you." He pushed through the door and seconds later Michael caught up with him.

"What makes you think I'm gonna lose her?"

"How much do you expect her to take? She's a woman and she craves stability and permanence in her life. Do you really think her askin' about the dog is some random request? Do you think her emotional outburst over this latest knee-jerk reaction of yours is nothing more than a phase that'll blow over? She's at the end of her rope and she's started to question your commitment to your relationship."

"That's ridiculous," he scoffed. "If I was gonna go anywhere I would've done it long before now."

"You're that confident she knows that?"

"Yeah, I am." If there was any question of one of them wanting out it would have to be on her side because she was sick and tired of the moving around.

"Then you're a bigger fool than I ever suspected you of being." He shook his head. "That doesn't look like a woman who knows the man she's with is one hundred percent committed to her."

Michael frowned and shifted when the wintry scene around them wavered and suddenly he found himself in the ratty hunting cabin. He moved to intercept Maria when she paced past him, her features ravaged by emotion and her eyes filled with a pain he couldn't describe. His intentions were a wasted effort though, because when he reached for her his hands came away empty and she walked right through him.

Her thoughts suddenly swirled around him, a cacophony of questions without answers. _Why were they running again? Why did he continue to volunteer for extra shifts? Why did he isolate himself? Why didn't he ever bring any of the guys home to watch a game or work on the car? Why had he refused to go with her to pick out the Christmas tree? Why hadn't he ever once commented on the way the house looked all decorated for the holiday? Why was it okay for the others to settle down but not them?_

Her face crumpled and the tears began to flow once again. _Why wasn't she enough to make him happy?_

His chest convulsed and it felt like a large hand had just wrapped around his heart and crushed it. He had never wanted to make her feel like this. He had never meant to make her question herself. She didn't understand that it wasn't her, it was him. It was all him. It always had been and he didn't know how to change that.

"I think you'd better figure it out, Michael, because she's on the edge of a decision that'll affect both of you for a very long time."

Michael looked at Maria as she threw herself down on the bed and pulled the bedraggled quilt up over her trembling body. Her thoughts began to broadcast again and that squeezing pain in his chest worsened. _When he comes back I'll just tell him I want to go to Moose Jaw, spend some time with Liz and her family. There's no reason for this to be any harder than it has to be. I'll tell him it's over and let him go._

"No." He rushed across the room and fell to his knees next to the bed. "No, Maria, don't let me go. I don't want you to go." He reached for her but before he could even try to touch her she disappeared and pain exploded in his hand.

He jerked upright and glanced around. The cabin was barely visible through the heavily falling snow and the silence was deafening. He looked down at his bare hand and frowned. The middle knuckle was cut and bleeding and he realized he must have struck the dashboard. He shook his hand out, wondering if it had cut so easily because his hands were so cold. He felt around for his missing glove and shoved his hand back inside but it did little to warm it up.

He dropped his head back against the seat and rubbed his chest absentmindedly. She couldn't be ready to walk. His eyes drifted closed even as his mind scrambled over ways to fix this fiasco. He knew there was a way. He just wasn't sure what it was yet.


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 4**

 _ **Michael's POV**_

There was a dull thudding sound, muted and distant. He fought against its call but it was incessant and demanding. It became louder, pulling him to consciousness against his will. Awareness brought the sound into focus, constant and sharp. He shook his head slightly, shifting in his seat and wincing at the stiffness and cold that had settled into his muscles.

"Los huevos son buenos!"

He knew that phrase. A frown marred his features as he tried to recall the translation. _The eggs are good?_ It was too cold. Eggs wouldn't be good at these temperatures. They'd be frozen. He forced his eyes open and looked around, jerking back when a fist knocked on the window right in front of his face.

"What the…?"

"Open up, El Capitan. The family jewels are in danger of freezing out here!"

He shook his head at the picture Kyle presented as he stood there, snow blowing around him, wearing a sombrero on his head while the edges of his poncho flitted in the wind. It was official, he was going crazy. He glanced at the door on the other side when it opened, relieved when Kyle slid inside and slammed the door behind him, dressed in normal clothes and no longer wearing a hat.

"Jeez, it's almost as cold in here as it is outside," he muttered as he blew on his hands and then rubbed them together.

"Valenti…" Michael clenched his teeth together, doing his best to control their chattering. "No one invited you to the party."

Kyle snorted. "Hell, this's one party I wouldn't have come to if I was invited and I sure wouldn't crash it of my own accord."

"And yet here you are." Yeah, he was officially losing it.

"Now I want you to pay attention, Guerin. Picture this if you will. The house is decked out for Christmas. Even though you're kind of a Grinch, you do know how my wife is about this time of year. There's enough garland and tinsel to choke all of Santa's reindeer, Rudolph included. Enough wreaths to decorate every door in the neighborhood. Enough lights to threaten the ability of the power company to support our house. She's made enough cookies to blow the intestines out of an elephant."

Michael rubbed his eyes and shook his head once again as he tried to push that image out of his head.

"So anyway, Mrs. Valenti and I had just tucked out two little people into their beds and they're finally asleep." He leveled a look at Michael. "And you have no idea what it takes to get the two of them to bed on Christmas Eve. It's a fight most nights, but tonight?" He grinned. Okay, maybe there was a little Santa blackmail involved, but hey, don't knock it if it works.

"Do you have a point?"

He held up his left hand. "Don't interrupt the story."

Michael blinked in confusion when his unwanted and uninvited companion turned his hand around and made a talking motion with his thumb and fingers. He tipped his head to one side and tried desperately to make out what he was seeing. "Why are you wearin' reindeer gloves?"

"What?" Kyle glanced at his hand. "Oh, these. Well, y'know, we get to open one gift on Christmas Eve before bed and the kids got these for me. Dad's gotta make a show of wearin' or usin' whatever gift his kids give him."

He shrugged. He wouldn't know.

"So anyway, as I was sayin', I spent the next hour holdin' my breath, my ears tuned to catch every little sigh or tired cry and waitin' for some of that magical alone time."

Michael contemplated sticking his fingers in his ears and chanting a litany of la-la-la's in an effort to derail this current train of conversation. They were heading into territory he really didn't want to explore.

"Here I am nestled in my favorite chair, my team on the tube and up by seven, my beer to my lips and there arose a loud clatter."

"If this story involves a fat man and a bunch of animals I'm gonna throw your ass out in the nearest snowdrift."

"Forget the reindeer and jolly old St. Nick. We're talkin' Isabel in all of her meddling glory." He held his arms out at his sides and looked down when his jacket parted to reveal the sweater below. "Yeah, mother-in-law gift. Had to put it on long enough for the wife to snap a picture to show her mom how much I love it." He made a face. "You'd think she'd know I'm not a snowman kinda guy, but," he shrugged, "it could've been much worse. Anyway, her demand was my command so here I am."

"Do you just hand your balls over for Christmas or does she actually take them by force?"

"Some people just have no gratitude."

His eyes narrowed. "Look, no one's keepin' you here. Take your ugly ass sweater, your stupid gloves and the wisdom you've memorized from Buddha for Dummies and go home. Tell her you found me. Matter of fact, don't even tell her that. I was never lost to begin with."

Kyle exhaled loudly and his breath formed a cloud that he was pretty sure immediately crystallized thanks to the arctic temperature inside the car. He could feel the cold seeping into his bones and he reached for the keys hanging from the ignition. It had to be Maria's key ring based on the handful of keys and the assortment of crap hanging on the ring. "Y'know, you really shouldn't have that much weight on a keychain, right? You could damage the ignition switch."

Michael shoved his hand away. "What're you doin'?"

"Cut the car on before we turn into ice sculptures."

He rubbed his gloved hands together and huddled tighter inside the sleeping bag. "I'm fine. Not interested in dyin' of carbon monoxide poisoning."

"You're right, freezing to death is so much better."

"Then let's go for a ride."

"Go home, Valenti."

"Huh-uh, no way. If you think Isabel's gonna let me back into our nice warm bed while you're out here intentionally icing your chestnuts then your frozen brain's already losing valuable oxygen." He sighed. "Well, if you wanna play it that way I guess we'll just get on the road."

"I'm all traveled out for the night."

The words were whisked away as snow suddenly swirled around the inside of the car, wrapping around them and creating a wall of white. It dissipated as quickly as it had blown up and he found himself standing outside in a city that was familiar. The entrance to Santa's Village was flanked by two large nutcrackers facing each other, their arms extended with candy canes instead of swords crossed over the entry.

He looked around at the old brick buildings, still amazed by the care that was taken to preserve them. They had only visited Max and Liz a couple of times but they had been there long enough for him to recognize the city they lived in. His feet moved against his will and he walked next to Kyle as they made their way into the holiday event.

"Some things never change," Kyle said with a sense of satisfaction as he watched his wife move around the event, overseeing things and making sure everything went off without a hitch. He cleared his throat and nudged Michael's attention towards the bustle of activity at the center of the village. "And then again, other things do."

Michael swallowed with difficulty when he recognized Isabel's handiwork. The village was a bigger, better version of her Christmas mania in Roswell a decade earlier. He froze in place when he spotted a familiar pair of elves flanking Santa where he sat on his throne while the brats lined up to suck up to him. They were singing their rendition of Jingle Bells and drawing laughter from the children.

He frowned when he realized it wasn't just the scene that was familiar. Maria and Liz, dressed up as Snowflake and Candy Cane, helping with the kids and keeping the whole thing running smoothly. He watched Maria closely as she ushered one kid back to her parents while Liz went to collect the next one.

He was a little guy with a dark blonde fringe sticking out from under the hat pulled down over his head and covering his ears. His cheeks were flushed from the cold and the excitement and while there was no hesitation as he reached for the hand Liz held out, he paused to look up at the man holding his other hand. Taller than Kyle, not as tall as him, the guy smiled and nodded at the quietly asked, "Daddy?"

"Go ahead, Ethan."

He released his daddy's hand and ran next to Liz as she led the way up to Santa and Snowflake. He broke free and ignored Santa in favor of running up to the other elf.

"Mommy!"

Maria's face was radiant as she caught the little boy and swung him up in her arms. "Is it lunchtime already?" she asked and smiled when he nodded and gave her a big kiss on the cheek. He shifted in her arms and pointed at the man coming towards them.

Michael felt his chest tighten to the point breathing became nearly impossible. The blood was roaring through his ears and he couldn't seem to hear a word she said as she reached out and took the man's hand. He leaned in to kiss her, the gesture obviously welcome and returned.

"Okay, you three, let's get a picture of you with Santa."

He watched as Maria and her… husband? He didn't know. But he watched them as they moved with ease and settled in around Santa with their little boy to have their picture taken.

"Not her husband," Kyle said after watching the emotions chase across his eyes for a few moments. "She never married, never could quite get to that point. He's a good guy though. Decent, hardworking, good significant other, great dad, and he loves her. They have a good life together."

The backs of his eyes burned as he watched her, unable to look away from the joy on her face. He'd never had a doubt that she'd be a wonderful mother. He'd just never had that same certainty about himself. This was what she wanted, what she needed. She deserved this. He felt something inside of him curl in on itself, coiling so tight and small until it lost all semblance of hope and died. The truth of the scene settled over him, crushing in its intensity. He had pushed her away and he had no one but himself to blame.

"Let's move on, Valenti." He couldn't stand here another minute watching a scene with the understudy in his place. "I'm not stayin' her another minute."

Kyle simply pointed in the direction of a bonfire that was set up a little ways away. "C'mon."

His eyes roamed over the buildings around them, some of them seeming out of place while others belonged. He glanced at the sign over one of the doorways, trying to figure out why the animal shelter didn't seem to fit with the other buildings on the street.

"It closed a few years ago." Kyle shrugged when Michael glanced at him warily. "Lady couldn't afford to keep it goin' and had to let it go."

He didn't know why it mattered. The shelter wasn't even in Moose Jaw. It didn't belong here. Come to think of it, neither did he. He held his hands out to the fire to warm them, not realizing how close they were when movement from the shadowed recesses of a doorway caught his attention.

He stared at the man, willing him to come out of the shadows so that he could get a better look at him. Something about him was so familiar and he knew he needed to see him. He dropped his hands, still so cold and aching in spite of the heat that didn't seem to be able to penetrate the icy feeling in his very bones.

Without even realizing it he began to move, crossing the street that only seemed to get colder as the wind began to blow. The shadows created by the flickering flames behind him danced against the walls of the buildings and he started to run. He drew up short when he reached the storefront where the man stood in the shadowed doorway.

He studied the man who didn't seem to realize he was there. Or maybe he just didn't care. He was slouched down against the building, one shoulder absorbing the cold from the brick, a hat pulled down over his head. His face was unshaven, his coat dusted with what looked like wood shavings, his jeans and boots frayed and worn. He had an air about him that warned people to stay away.

The man turned his head slowly until they were staring each other down and Michael inhaled sharply. The cold air stabbed through his chest and deep into his lungs making it hard to breathe. He recognized the sunken eyes, the hollow empty look that revealed a soul that had nothing left to give, the slumped shoulders that spoke of a lack of care about anything, himself most of all. He'd know that look anywhere.

He was looking in a mirror. How many times had he done that over the years? How many times had he stood in front of a mirror and wondered how much of Hank he had in him? His gaze dropped to the bottle in the hand of the man that wore his face and he shook his head. Sure, he had a drink now and then, but the bottle, the demeanor, the signs were all there – this man didn't have an occasional drink. He didn't live, he simply existed. Hiding in the shadows to catch a glimpse of a woman he knew he didn't deserve and hadn't been able to hold onto.

"You can't hold onto someone you're constantly pushin' away."

It was his voice but he hadn't spoken. He looked up into the face of his mirror image.

"If you can't take the risk you don't deserve to even try holdin' on to her." He raised the bottle to his lips, turned to send a longing look in her direction, and pushed away from the doorway, stumbling a little as he made his way down the steps and out into the street. He kept to the shadows before finally disappearing from sight.

"Valenti," he barked sharply, "get me back. Now!"

The wind rose and the snow swirled around them, wiping everything from sight, and in less than a heartbeat he was back in the confines of the car. And Kyle was still there. Why wouldn't he just leave him in peace?

"Start the car, Guerin. I'm not leavin' till you do."

The image of himself, in some ways a reflection of his worst nightmare, had shaken him. "Just go."

"Yeah, see, the way this works is I get you home safely or Isabel and the kids are gonna have a very bad Christmas. And one thing I will not do is mess with that woman's Christmas."

"Fine!" Hell, whatever it took to get rid of the damn gnome!

"No need to call names," Kyle grumbled.

Michael reached for the key hanging from the ignition and turned it. He shook his hand at the feeling of hot needles piercing his fingers and he raised it, frowning when he realized he'd lost his glove at some point.

"Tell me you can warm the engine without setting it on fire."

He glared at his ghostly companion and gave it another attempt. He had to start the car. If he succeeded he could get rid of Kyle. If he succeeded he could get back to Maria. He understood what she needed now and he was ready to take the risk. If only he could get the car to start. But it wasn't cooperating.

"I think maybe it needs a little alien love."

He wanted to yell at Kyle but suddenly he felt so exhausted. He just wanted to close his eyes for a little while. It couldn't hurt to rest for a few minutes. He'd had a long night through no fault of his own. He was pretty sure he couldn't have known that cookies and a beer would cause this much grief.

"Let's go, Guerin. Outta the car, heat that engine and let's get it started. Otherwise I'm gonna have to pull out the big guns and have Isabel come out here."

Michael stared at the cabin through bleary eyes. He fumbled to push his hand back into his glove and started to tug on the sleeping bag.

"No, you don't. Hey, you don't get out there and get this thing goin' she's gonna go lookin' for you. You want her wandering around out in this weather? You know she's not equipped for it but that won't stop her."

The thought of Maria stumbling around in this cold motivated him. He reached for the door handle and missed it. He tried again and managed to wrap his hand around the handle but couldn't seem to make it work. He pulled the handle and shoved with his shoulder. After a couple of attempts it gave in and flew open with a metallic groan. He managed to stumble out of the car, almost falling on his face as he got tangled up in the sleeping bag.

"C'mon, you're almost there."

"Shut up, Valenti. Go haunt someone else," he muttered as he fought to open the hood. He shook his hand and pulled the glove off, flexing his freezing fingers before holding it over the engine. He focused as hard as he could, digging deep for the strength he needed to do this and get home. "Almost home, Maria," he whispered, closing his eyes and pushing himself.

After a few minutes he shoved his hand back in his glove, slammed the hood, grabbed the sleeping bag that had blown several feet away to wrap around the trunk of a tree, and climbed back inside the car. He fumbled with the keys and finally managed to turn them and the car started without further protest.

He was shaking as he waited for the car to warm up but it wasn't all from the cold. The image of a future version of himself, alone, remaining on the outskirts of family and friends because he had pushed everyone away scared him. But it was the image of Maria, mother of a little boy, lover to a man who wasn't him, that terrified him.

He'd always wanted a family, craved it in a way that scared him, but he didn't know how to be that person. He didn't know how to be a husband a woman could lean on, could depend on to be there. He didn't know how to be a father. His role model was the thing his nightmares were made of.

He'd spent a lifetime surviving with learned coping behaviors and without his realizing it they were pushing him right into filling Hank's shoes. It wasn't about abuse, although there were so many ways to hurt people without ever raising a hand. It was about finding new ways to cope because if he didn't, if he didn't open himself up to the possibilities, he was going to lose Maria for good.

Determination hummed through his body and gave him a renewed sense of purpose, of hope, as he put the car in drive and headed for the light shining in the darkness and guiding his path.


	5. Chapter 5

**Part Five**

 _ **Maria's POV**_

The wind was gusting heavily and the temperature inside the cabin seemed to drop a little more with every passing minute. She stared at the window across the room when it rattled, her body shuddering from a combination of cold and fear. In all the years they had been on the run, all the times they'd fought, this was the first time he'd ever just walked out.

Oh, she knew he'd be somewhere close by, keeping watch. And she knew in time he'd come back. It wasn't in him to just leave her here, she knew that. She was just afraid he was ready for things between them to end. Why now? It wasn't the dog issue, she was sure of that. She didn't think it was just her wanting to settle down in one place either, although she had a feeling that was a big part of it.

Maybe he'd just become accustomed to running. Maybe he just didn't want to settle down. Or maybe he was just tired of her. She sighed, the sound dejected even to her own ears. She wished he would just talk to her. She wasn't a mind reader. Guessing when it came to what Michael Guerin was thinking was an exercise in futility. She needed to know what she was up against. She needed to know if it was time to let him go or if there was anything left to fight for.

Her fingers dragged over the coarse material of the threadbare sheets and she glanced around the cabin. Michael had a special talent for finding dumps like this. They had a perfectly nice home with a big bed covered in soft micro fleece sheets and thick warm blankets. And where were they? She wasn't even sure where they were. Maybe they weren't even in Canada any longer.

Whatever had spooked Michael this time had kept them moving well beyond what was strictly necessary. She wasn't sure she even believed his reason for running this time. It felt like he'd latched onto the first convenient excuse, she just didn't know why. She knew where her insecurities were taking her, but she really wanted some cold hard facts to measure his actions up against.

She shifted around and winced when the lumpy mattress dug into her back. The damn thing was so uncomfortable. Why weren't they at home? They had a perfectly comfortable bed at home. A bed that they had actually picked out together months ago, before things had started to become so strained between them.

She squeezed her eyes shut when the arguments that had become so frequent over the past few months began to play in her mind, culminating in their last fight. The words, the volume of their voices – mostly hers since his contribution had mainly been him standing there with that look on his face – only got louder. She needed something to focus on, something to distract her and give her the reprieve of silence. At this point she knew peace was too much to ask for, but maybe she would be granted a few minutes of quiet.

Exhaustion seemed to fill her being, taking up residence in every inch of her body, and in spite of the uncomfortable mattress she could feel herself slipping away. She jerked once and her eyes fluttered open, searching the room and locating a dim point of light coming from beneath the door that led out into the main room.

She dragged herself up and over to the door, opening it and peering out into the other room. She didn't hear a sound but she could see the shadows dancing on the walls, an indicator that the logs in the fireplace had come to life. She ventured further into the room, certain Michael hadn't yet returned.

The familiar sound of logs crackling and the heat from the fire now blazing in the fireplace drew her like a moth to a flame. Hands extended in front of her she approached the roughhewn fireplace and the warmth immediately infused her being, comforting and soothing to nerves worn too thin.

Something off to her left glittered and she turned her head, squinting in an effort to make out the unfamiliar shapes. She crossed the room to look at the bookcase she had failed to notice before and she reached out to rest a hand on the snow globe sitting on the top shelf. It was large with a heavy wooden base that proudly boasted a brass plaque with a name engraved on it. She picked it up and shook it, bringing the glittering snow inside to life in a swirl of activity. Three white polar bears stood inside, their paws interlocked to form a circle around an igloo with a small penguin perched on top.

She set the snow globe down and let her fingertips trail over the children's books lined up and filling the second shelf. Children's books seemed rather out of place in a remote hunting cabin. She leaned in closer to scan the few titles she could make out in the dim light. "A Christmas for Cindy Bear," she mused quietly before her eyes lifted back to the snow globe. Polar bears, polar bears… there was something very familiar about this scene.

"Maria?"

The quiet voice, so out of place in this setting, pulled her out of her musings and she raised her gaze back to the snow globe and the name plate. Her fingers traced over the letters that were suddenly illuminated as the flames leapt higher in the fireplace. Caleb. She turned slowly and she found herself staring in disbelief at her best friend.

"Liz," she whispered, her voice wavering with emotion. She took in the sight of Liz sitting in a rocking chair next to the fireplace, the blinking lights from the Christmas tree next to her casting colored flashes of light against her skin. Caleb lay calmly in her arms, his eyes heavy-lidded as he fought to focus on the tree.

"Oh, Maria," Liz said, her voice heavy with concern, "what's going on?"

"I wish I knew. It's been so hard for a while now, but it's only gotten worse the past couple of months. I can feel Michael pulling away from me, shutting me out. And I know I'm not helping, I know that. I've been irritable and short-tempered, but the more he shuts down the more anxious I get. It's Christmas Eve, Liz, and he walked out." She looked away and swallowed with difficulty. "He's never walked out before."

Liz stood and took Maria in her arms. "It's gonna be okay, Maria. I don't know what's going on with Michael, but the one thing I am sure of where he's concerned is that he loves you."

"I know he loves me. I just don't think that's enough anymore."

"Sweetie, you have to give him a chance to explain."

Maria gave a watery laugh. "Michael explaining anything, especially his feelings…" she shook her head. "That's just not his thing."

"Give him the chance, Maria. That man doesn't want to lose you."

She closed her eyes tiredly. She wanted to believe that. She wanted so badly to believe it. But she couldn't stop the doubts that had started creeping in months ago, doubts that had seemed to be validated with every fight, every extra shift he volunteered for, every time he'd given her a reason why he couldn't go out and do something with her, and finally the excuse he'd made to uproot them yet again. She wanted to believe but she was just so tired… so very tired.

 _ **Michael's POV**_

Michael slowed as he neared the sharp turn at the base of the hill, carefully maneuvering the car over the slick spots. If anyone had told him ten years ago that he'd become accustomed to being up to his knees in snow he would've laughed them off of the planet. He pressed his right hand over the vent but the heat did little more than cause his burning flesh to sting even worse than it already did.

His mind was actively turning over everything his brain had dredged up the past few hours, trying to figure out how to handle the situation. It was past time to find new ways to cope with his issues because if he didn't, if he didn't open himself up to the possibilities, he was going to lose Maria for good. That wasn't an option he was willing to entertain. He could kick himself for letting things get so far out of hand. He hadn't meant to, but that didn't change the fact that he had.

His foot dropped off of the gas pedal when he passed the office where he'd rented the cabin and noticed the light pouring out through the windows. He shot a glance at the clock on the dash, wondering why the office wasn't locked up tight. Without giving it a second thought he pulled up by the gas pump and got out, his fingers feeling thick and clumsy as he grappled with the handle.

He'd put Maria through hell for the past two days. Running into the house and telling her they had to leave, arguing with her instead of trying to explain himself while he shoved things in a couple of bags and hauled them and her out of the house, driving like a madman for endless hours without stopping for much more than gas and then dumping her in the cabin. Hell, he hadn't even made sure she had a decent meal in all those hours.

He shook his head at his stupidity. He'd pushed too hard, too far this time. His own fears and his sense of self-preservation had allowed him to risk the one thing that meant the most to him. He rested his hand on the pump handle, calculating how much gas he needed while going over the last thing she'd said to him.

" _I don't know if I can do this anymore."_

In all the years they'd been together, with all the arguments and fights they'd had, she'd never once thrown those words at him. He tipped his head back and looked up at the sky, taking in the stars that dotted the black canvas. He drew in a deep breath as his eyes settled on the North Star, recalling a story Maria had rattled off several years back when they had been driving through South Dakota. Something about the son of an Indian chief getting lost and finding his way back home using it as a guide. There were plenty of stories out there about people doing the same thing. He exhaled and his breath hung on the air for several seconds before dissipating. Maybe there was some truth in the stories.

He shoved his hands in his coat pockets and lowered his gaze to the candle flickering in the window. He wondered why it was lit when it was apparent that there was nothing wrong with the electricity. It suddenly hit him that it was Christmas morning and all he'd given the woman he loved was more heartache.

Maria had given him everything including a comfortable home and in a fit of discomfort he'd pulled the rug out from under her and taken it all away. He didn't want that to be his legacy. He wanted, for once, to give her a gift that held meaning. Yet here he was, once again, without a gift and with only an unacceptable shopping option to locate one.

He sighed and shook his head as he eyed the cheerfully blinking 'open' sign above the candle. It was quite possible this was an even worse place to buy a Christmas gift than the hardware store. But, beggars couldn't be choosers, could they? With a determined stride he walked up to the door and pulled it open, barely noticing the warm air that rushed to greet him.

He nodded at the old man who looked up from behind the counter, taking in the faded blue eyes beneath bushy white eyebrows. The chair creaked when he sat forward to place his book on the counter before slowly getting to his feet and stretching.

"Well, Merry Christmas, Mr. Delaney."

Michael mumbled a response and headed for the small aisles to browse what the store had to offer. He had lost count of the phony names they'd used over the years. Maria had turned it into a game or sorts, scrambling the letters of the real names of the people she cared most about and seeing how many names she could come up with. It was her way of holding onto them and it had taken years for him to recognize the coping mechanism for what it was.

He could feel the old man's eyes on him as he shuffled through the aisles. He'd long ago learned to trust his instincts and nothing about the small store's proprietor had set his alarms off. His gaze scanned over the items on the shelves, taking inventory of the possible options. Nothing suitable for a gift, but more than enough choices to at least make her a decent meal… and it _was_ the least he could do for her.

He sighed and snagged a box of pancake mix, a small bottle of oil and a package of chocolate chips. Yeah, he thought with a shake of his head, because making her favorite pancakes would fix everything. He'd screwed up big time. He couldn't possibly go back to the cabin with nothing solid to offer her.

He reached around and rested his hand over his back pocket for a moment before pulling his wallet out. He popped the snaps on it and ran a thumb over the thick stack of bills inside. He'd always kept a good amount of cash on hand because he never knew when they might have to hit the road, but thanks to all the overtime he'd been putting in for the past couple of months he'd socked away considerably more than normal. He slid his wallet back in his pocket and grabbed a bottle of syrup, tucking it under his arm before making his way over to the cold case.

It only took a few seconds to locate the breakfast sausage and add a package to his collection but it didn't do anything for his dilemma. He still didn't have anything to offer her. He made a face when he turned and saw a small display of Christmas flowers. No way. He wasn't a flowers kinda guy and not just because that one time had blown up in his face. It just wasn't his thing. He continued on his way, pausing when he reached the aisle of personal hygiene products. He gave the items there a brief glance before dismissing them as unacceptable.

Dejected, he was turning to head to the register with his meager groceries when a sign on the wall over a darkened doorway caught his attention. _Gouden's Gifts._ It was hand carved and it gleamed in the weak light that filtered up to illuminate it. His head snapped to the side when the room suddenly lit up.

"Go ahead, Mr. Delaney, have a look around." He motioned to the younger man to come closer. "Why don't you set those things down, free your hands up while you browse."

"Well…"

The old man chuckled and repeated the motion when his customer shot a glance at the clock. "It's perfectly fine, son. I'm not in any rush."

Michael hesitated, but after a moment he nodded and moved to place the items on the counter. He didn't want to go to Maria empty-handed. He shrugged a shoulder at the candle burning in the window. "You expecting the power to go out tonight?"

"Oh, no. That happens regular enough, but that's not why the candle's lit. It was a tradition of my wife's and so it became mine as well." He smiled and there was sadness in the depths of his eyes. "It's to welcome the Christ Child."

"Why?" He cleared his throat when he realized how abrupt and rude his question probably came across. "I just mean He wasn't actually born on Christmas Day."

"No, you're right about that," he said as he moved around the counter to join the younger man to lead the way over to the other side of the store. "But, truth is we don't know the actual date of His birth and this is as good a day as any to celebrate. He stepped through the doorway and glanced at him. "Have you done much studying on the date of His birth?"

"Me? No, I have a friend who's a Buddhist and he's taken an interest in a lot of different things." And Kyle had gone on and on about the inaccuracies surrounding Christmas a few years back when he'd gotten his hands on a book of comparative religion and proceeded to share the wealth of his knowledge. He was sure he'd nearly laughed himself stupid when Isabel had finally had enough and that book had sailed across the room when Kyle rattled off one theory too many. He was just glad he'd been there to witness it.

"Buddhist, eh?" He scratched his head and reached up to adjust his hat, only realizing it wasn't there when he came into contact with empty space. "Very peaceful people, Buddhists," he said as he leaned over the counter to retrieve his hat. He nodded to himself as he settled it in place and turned back around.

"Known many of them, have you?" Michael questioned as the old guy joined him. He shot a quick glance at the hat – black faded material with words embroidered in what was once yellow-gold colored thread. He'd seen similar hats before, worn by veterans, and he wasn't positive but he was pretty sure the words were the names of military campaigns or battles. He'd found one in the footlocker in Hank's room when he was eight years old along with a purple and gold heart-shaped medal. He hadn't had any idea of the significance of the items at the time. Hank had caught him and he'd made sure Michael never forgot it was off limits. It was the first time the cold-hearted bastard had drawn blood when he hit him. He shook the memory off. He hadn't thought about that in years and there was no need to go there now.

"Just one," he said with a smile as he led the way into the gift shop. "What about you?"

"Just the one. He's more than enough." He shrugged at the man's appraising look. "Good friend," he admitted finally.

"I didn't know Trang long but I think we'd have been very good friends given the chance." He nodded when the younger man glanced at his hat. "I only knew him for seven hours but we had a conversation I'll never forget."

"Battlefield conversation?"

"No, R&R in Saigon, summer of '63. I was headed for a dive bar with some buddies when we ran across a group of GI's harassing a man."

"Trang," Michael guessed.

"Um-hmm. Most of the guys went on to the bar. Most of them weren't interested in getting involved in something they saw as none of their business and a couple of them wouldn't be bothered to help anyone who was Vietnamese." _What a sad commentary on humanity,_ he thought.

"But you stepped in."

He nodded. "Yeah, got a black eye and a tooth knocked out, but it was well worth it."

"Got a conversation you'll never forget for your trouble."

The old man chuckled. "That I did. Sometimes we're gifted with a brief moment with someone that changes our lives in some way. You don't strike me as much of a conversationalist but I'll bet you'd appreciate a moment in time like that too." He tipped his head to one side and reached up to rub his left ear. "I'd even wager you've had one or two of those in your life already."

He reached out to run his hand over the high back of a wooden rocking chair, fingertips trailing over the thin strings that secured the floral-patterned cushion to its back. Yeah, he'd had a couple of those. Hal Carver and Jim Valenti immediately came to mind. "So you and Trang never talked again after that night?"

"No." He smiled sadly. "You know much about the Buddhist crisis?"

More than he wanted to thanks to Kyle. Rather than say that though, he just nodded. "I've read about it." His eyebrows lifted in interest. "He was part of the resistance?"

"Yeah. He was killed a few days after we met." He shook his head. "A lot of Buddhists were killed or disappeared when the pagodas in South Vietnam were raided."

"That what happened to Trang?"

"He died fighting for what he believed in." His eyes took on a faraway look as he remembered a conversation in a back alley dive. "I was disillusioned when we met. I couldn't honestly tell you why I was there or what I was fighting for. Twenty-four years old, thousands of miles from my new wife and my home," he sighed, "and I was bone tired. Trang gave me a renewed sense of purpose that night. He was passionate about his beliefs. I realized I had something to fight for, some _one_ to fight for, and it made a big difference."

"If you have someone to fight for you've got everything."

"I couldn't agree more." He chuckled when the younger man's head snapped up and it was apparent by the expression on his face that he hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud. "Many Buddhists believe the Good Lord's teachings compliment their own beliefs." He turned his head to glance at the candle burning in the window. "You said you have a friend who's a Buddhist. Does he celebrate Christmas?"

Michael snorted. Did Christmas reindeer fly? Did Santa Claus wear a mistletoe jockstrap? Hell yes, Kyle celebrated Christmas. "Yeah, you might say he's married to Mrs. Claus, so like it or not it's a holiday staple in their house." He shrugged one shoulder. "She doesn't have to twist his arm much. They've got kids so he gets into it more than he ever did before."

"Kids will do that for you."

"Yeah, I guess," he said thinking of his friends and how engaged they were when holidays – especially Christmas, came around now that kids were a part of the picture.

"No little ones at home, Mr. Delaney?"

"No." He ran a hand through his hair. "And it's just Michael."

That earned him a grin and an extended hand. "Pleased to meet you, Michael. You can call me Larry." He glanced around the room. "Are you looking for anything in particular? Something for your wife maybe?"

"I don't…" he trailed off when his gaze landed on the far wall and the blanket hanging there. It was practical, which met his criteria, and it was something Maria would appreciate. He nodded at the blanket. "Is that blanket for sale?"

Larry turned to follow the young man's pointing finger and he hid a smile. "You have a good eye, Michael. C'mon, let's take a look at it."

"It's not very thick," Michael mumbled once he held it in his hands.

"They don't have to be thick to be warm. Trust me, my wife made them for years. It'll last for years and you'll be surprised just how warm it is."

"Well, it's a nice color."

Larry couldn't hold in the chuckle. It was easy to see Michael was out of his depth here. "Does your wife have a preferred color scheme or anything for your bedroom?"

"Huh?"

"Some women are pretty set when it comes to color schemes and the like."

"Uh, no, Maria's kinda… eclectic." He pressed his hand over the circular patterns that decorated the blanket, er, quilt. "She'll like it. Yeah, this'll work."

"Well, let's get it wrapped up for her."

"It'll be okay as long as you've got a bag to put it in."

Larry reached over and patted him on the shoulder. "Son, a gift like this doesn't just get shoved in a grocery sack." He readjusted his hat and reached for the quilt. "My wife made these quilts for years and I made the boxes for them."

Michael followed him back to the counter and watched him as he folded the quilt, his wrinkled hands smoothing the material down. He tipped his head to the side when one of the corners caught his eye and he reached out to flip it back. His thumb traced over the small rectangular piece of silky material sewn to the back corner. Thanks to Kyle he recognized the colors and pattern that depicted the Buddhist flag. He wondered if she'd chosen to use it because of what it symbolized to her husband. Bright blue thread was stitched to spell out a name over the multi-colored material. _Betty G._ His eyes lifted to Larry and he looked away from the raw pain visible in the man's eyes as they rested on the name.

His gaze settled on the hand that moved to rest near his and he stared at the scarred gold band on the man's third finger. It matched the hands that bore the scars of a lifetime of hard work; building, carving, fighting, and living.

"She was quite a woman, my Betty."

"She must've been," Michael agreed softly.

"Excuse me a moment."

He nodded and waited, his eyes wandering to the candle burning in the window once more. _A light to guide the way,_ he thought.

"Here we go." Larry placed a large box on the counter and lifted the hand-carved lid off, setting it aside. "It's not a Christmas theme," he said apologetically as he gestured to the scene carved into the lid.

Michael's eyes traced over the scene – a log home surrounded by trees, a wisp of smoke curling up from the chimney, and a dog watching over his family from his position on the covered porch. He shook his head. "No, this's perfect."

"If you'd like I can carve your names on the box with the date of your wedding."

Michael glanced up at him, confusion etched clearly on his face. "What?"

Larry smiled and reached out to run a fingertip along the circular pattern. "See the way the rings are interlocked? This is a wedding quilt, Michael. The rings symbolize love, marriage, and permanence. When is your anniversary?"

A wedding quilt, he mused. A symbol of permanence, of stability and most importantly, a promise… a promise he should've given her a long time ago. "No need to carve anything else on the box. It's perfect as is." He shook his head and reached up to scratch his eyebrow with his thumb. "If and when she says yes maybe I'll find my way back here to get the finishing touch put on it."


	6. Chapter 6

**Part Six**

 _ **Maria's POV**_

Maria stretched slowly, feeling the pull of abused muscles and wishing futilely that she was at home in her own bed. Somehow everything seemed easier to deal with when you had the comfort of your own bed waiting for you. Unfortunately she didn't have that luxury. Instead, she was stuck in the middle of an arctic wasteland. She wrinkled her nose and then wiggled her toes, suddenly realizing that they were no longer freezing.

Warmth. It surrounded her, comforting without being overbearing in its intensity. She sighed quietly and shifted, her brows pulling down in a small frown when a nearly unnoticeable sizzling sound carried on the silence in the cabin. It took a few moments before her dulled senses began to awaken and her nose twitched when the scent of cooking sausage wafted on the air.

Her eyes opened a crack and she peered around blearily. The sky was visible through the uncovered window across the room, revealing that it was still pitch dark. Her stomach rumbled in spite of the early hour. Light flickered, casting shadows across the wall and drawing her sleepy gaze to the fire roaring in the fireplace. She forced her eyes to open fully and slowly looked around the room.

She frowned when she locked on the outerwear neatly hanging on the hooks by the door. She looked down and stared at the boots neatly placed on the mat by the door. She reached up to rub her eyes, certain they were playing tricks on her. But after several attempts to clear her vision things remained the same. It didn't make sense. Twelve years with Michael hadn't changed certain things – things like picking up after himself and putting articles of clothing in their proper places. So, in light of that little fact, what she was seeing made no sense.

Unless maybe she was really still asleep. That was completely possible. And it made more sense than what she was seeing and smelling. Her stomach rumbled again, reminding her that she hadn't eaten in… when had she last eaten? She certainly hadn't bothered with the hamburger Michael had picked up on one of their quick stops for gas. Well, she'd taken a couple of bites, but it hadn't set well and she'd wrapped the rest of it up and set it aside. She hadn't been hungry, too upset with the situation – and her boyfriend – to bother eating. Not that it had gone to waste. No, Michael had practically inhaled it after polishing off his own meal.

Her last meal had been the day before yesterday. She'd had the night off so she'd made his favorite dinner, which had turned out to be a wasted effort. It had turned cold while she waited for him to come home and she'd finally covered the dishes and put it in the refrigerator. Where it was still sitting. She hadn't eaten anything for dinner, which meant her last meal had been lunch that day.

Finally deciding that she must be awake, she carefully pushed herself into a sitting position. A wave of nausea washed over her and she reached out to place a steadying hand on the arm of the couch as she closed her eyes and inhaled several slow, measured breaths. Between not eating, the stress and anxiety over her current situation, she was feeling like crap.

She tugged the throw around her shoulders and wondered once again if she was just dreaming. The visit with Liz had been wonderful, too brief, and all in her head. If her mind could take her there then it was more than capable of creating a scene like this. Her eyes lifted to the moose head mounted to the wall over the fireplace and that idea went out the window. No way would she have that monstrosity in a dream. A nightmare, yes, but not a dream. There was something very wrong with decorating some poor dead animal's head in Christmas lights and a Santa hat.

There was a loud sizzling sound that was so familiar it drew her gaze to the tiny kitchen. She couldn't remember the last time Michael had made breakfast for her. But he had a habit of adding a bit of water to the sausage when it was nearly done and then turning the heat down low and putting a lid on the pan. It kept the sausage hot and moist and prevented it from drying out and becoming tough.

His quiet presence was soothing. After the way he'd stormed out hours ago she hadn't known what to expect when he returned. Watching him walk out like that had been difficult. She'd never doubted that he'd return, but there had been no way of knowing what his mood or his next move would be. She had half expected him to come back and insist they leave again. But he'd returned quietly, put his things away neatly, and then retreated to the kitchen to cook breakfast.

She got to her feet, giving herself a moment to be sure she was steady, and then made her way to the kitchen. The nausea rose briefly as she was bombarded by the combined scents of pancakes, sausage, syrup, and mixed in there somewhere, a hint of chocolate. She wondered if this was just his way of apologizing; if his plan was to soften the blow of the news that they were leaving again by making her favorite breakfast.

She glanced at the table that was just big enough for two, set for a meal. He'd gone to the effort to not only make breakfast, but to set the table with real plates, utensils and glasses. Why? She knew the way he operated and this wasn't one of his settings. When they had to run he tended to use the old bull in the china shop routine. He never thought to soften the blow. She understood that about him, or at least she always had in the past. Not that she liked it, but she did understand it. It was his way of keeping her safe. This last time though, it had been different. She was out of her depth and she didn't know what to expect from him right now.

Her mind began to piece the evidence together and she swallowed hard as she took in the setting. The last time anything similar to this had happened it had been the method he'd chosen to say goodbye. Her breath hitched in her throat as she realized that she had been right earlier. He was ready for them to go their separate ways and this was his way of working up to the conversation.

 _ **Michael's POV**_

He watched the bubbles on top of the pancakes as they popped one by one, quietly counting down to the moment they would be ready to turn. He listened to the sausage cooking with half an ear, aware enough of the sizzling sound to know it was cooking on schedule. He poured the syrup in a small pot and added a little bit of butter to it, absently watching it melt into the thick dark liquid.

His mind was turning over the past few hours. Beer and cookies definitely weren't a good combination but he'd given up on that as a plausible explanation for the things he'd seen. He didn't believe in ghosts or the supernatural so the only thing he'd been able to come up with was that his mind had conjured the whole thing up, using people he knew and trusted as a way to make sense of the situation he'd found himself in.

Without giving it any thought he lifted the lid on the other pan, flipped the sausage patties over, added enough water to quiet the sizzling and replaced the cover before placing the pan back on the burner. The edges of the pancakes showed signs of crisping and when the final bubble popped he slid the spatula under the first one and flipped it over. The other three followed suit and he turned the heat down while reaching for the bag of chocolate chips.

Maybe this gesture was stupid and a waste of time. It wasn't like making her favorite pancakes could erase his mistakes. _Hell, it couldn't hurt_ he reasoned and carefully placed the chocolate chips in a specific pattern. He hesitated before completing them, tossing the bag on the counter and snatching up a small individual bag of M&Ms he'd added to his purchases at the last minute. He tore it open and shook the contents into his hand, pulling four red ones out and placing them in the center of each pancake. Yeah, it was stupid.

The sound of sock-covered feet shuffling across the floor alerted him to the fact that Maria was on the move. He'd heard her waking up and he'd forced himself to stay focused on the task at hand. The first thing he needed to do was feed her and hope like hell he could figure out what exactly to say to her. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, letting him know she was watching him.

He turned slowly, hiding a grimace when he saw her haggard appearance. It was made worse by the knowledge that he was responsible for it. "I made breakfast." His inner voice mocked him for his lack of verbal abilities. Way to state the obvious, you idiot! He slid the pancakes on a plate and turned to look at her.

It was moments like this that he wished he possessed the skill of verbal eloquence. He had no idea what to say and even if he did, he didn't know how to say it. He opened his mouth and closed it several times in aborted attempts to speak. He frowned when he caught the way her skittish gaze was bouncing back and forth between him and the table he'd painstakingly set. Had it really been that long since he'd made such a simple gesture as making a meal for her? It had, he realized. He had made such a mess of things.

He knew she was angry with him, knew she was hurt, but her prolonged silence worried him. As a rule they fought stuff like this out. She didn't just sit around quietly when he screwed up or pissed her off. Of course, in all their years together he'd never pushed her this far. He forced his eyes back up to meet hers and in the space of a heartbeat he realized that she'd closed herself off to him. Her eyes were normally vibrant and alive; snapping with anger or fiery with passion, but never devoid of emotion.

The realization startled him and before he could speak the heat from the stove seared his overly-sensitized hand and he jerked it back, dropping the spatula from suddenly nerveless fingers. He reached out, knocking it away from the burners before hurriedly turning them off, and turning back to say something, anything, but she had turned away and was already leaving the room.

He gave himself a mental kick for not realizing how the scene would affect her. It had never even entered his mind that she would equate him cooking breakfast for her with the dinner he'd cooked to say his goodbyes before departing planet Earth. "Maria," he called as he hurried after her. "Maria… it's not what you're thinkin'."

He watched her warily as she moved around the room, picking up random items before putting them right back down again. He knew her, knew the way her mind worked, the leaps she was capable of making when adding two and two and coming up with seven. Female logic was anything but logical, but now wasn't the time to point that out.

He found himself wishing for the first time that he had Max's ability with words. Hell, even Kyle was better at stuff like this than he was. Of course, in his case it was probably all owed to that little fat man he was so infatuated with. Max just seemed to come by it naturally. He figured that could be attributed to genetics. To be the leader he had been in his previous life he had to have been diplomatic. When it came to himself there was no such thing as an easy conversation when it had anything at all to do with emotions. He just wasn't wired that way. Give him a physical threat and he could deal with it with no problem, but something like this situation just flummoxed him.

The sudden lack of movement caught his attention and he paused to look at Maria. She had taken a seat on the couch and all movement had ceased. She was a woman who was rarely still and even when she was quiet the silence crackled with energy. In this moment though she was still and the air was filled with a tense silence.

He debated his next move for all of ten seconds before he crossed the room and sat down next to her. She was sitting on the edge of the cushion, her elbows braced on her knees and her hands tightly clasped. He shot a furtive glance at her, taking in her emotionless expression as she stared into the fireplace. He wasn't sure how to approach her. She was doing her best to keep her feelings hidden from him but there was no way to miss the tension drawing her body taut or the fact that she was holding her breath.

He was unnerved by her continued silence and in a moment of clarity he knew he was the one who had to break it. He owed her that much and more. Back in high school he'd managed to reveal himself to her, allowing her access to things he'd never allowed any other person to see, and he'd been able to do it without a word. He couldn't take that route this time. No, this time he was going to have to fumble through an explanation using actual words. It was one skill where he was not only lacking but also well out of his comfort zone.

His thoughts momentarily detoured, taking him on a quick trip to that Christmas after high school. Yeah, he'd failed miserably that time. He shook the memory off. He didn't have time to drag his feet. He had to… he rubbed the back of his neck and glanced at her again, seeing her inhale a shaky breath as a log in the fire broke in half and sent sparks up into the chimney. She was about to say something but just as quickly her mouth formed a determined line and she gave a nearly imperceptible shake of her head.

He had a feeling that if she started to talk first he wouldn't be able to fix what he had broken. He struggled to find the words and came up blank.

" _If you can't take the risk you don't deserve to even try holdin' on to her."_

He scrubbed his face and took a breath as his glimpse of the future reared up before him. He couldn't let that become a reality. "It's not what you think, Maria. I'm the one who messed up here." He squeezed his eyes shut and just opened his mouth. "The last few months I got so caught up… so stuck in my own…" he sighed, the sound laced with irritation as the words refused to come easily. "I never meant to hurt you, Maria." He turned his head and their eyes locked. "I didn't really understand what was going on until tonight. The uneasiness, the restlessness, the fights… I just…" He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head, frustrated by his inability to just say what was inside of him.

"The whole Christmas thing, it just doesn't mean the same thing to me that it does to you. I wish it did, Maria. I wish I got what it is that makes it such a big deal to you." He dropped his head forward and linked his fingers behind his neck as he drew in a deep breath. "It was easier to deal with Christmas while we were on the run because it was just a passing thing, but this year it was all different."

"It's not just Christmas, Michael," she whispered.

He winced at her tired tone, easily identifying her disappointment and fear. "No, you're right. It's more than that. It's about commitment. No, Maria," he reached out and grabbed her wrist when she shifted and he assumed she was about to get up and walk away without giving him a chance to explain. "It is about commitment, or at least it was. But I didn't really understand that until tonight."

"I don't…" She looked down when his thumb stroked over her hand, his touch gentle and so at odds with the intensity in his eyes.

"All these years we've been together and from my perspective that was commitment. I didn't realize until last night that what we have has been…" his free hand waved around as he searched for the word, "convenient. That's not to say I wasn't committed to you, that I'm _not_ committed to you, because I am. But what we have it's not enough, for either of us."

Maria's eyes filled as uncertainty and fear coalesced to form a thick lump in her throat. He was breaking up with her and he was being kind about it. It would be so much easier if he just got angry and yelled. She was having trouble tracking him through vision blurry with tears and she was just barely able to make his form out as he leaned over to pick up a box she hadn't noticed before.

"So here," he said as placed it on her lap.

She cleared her throat, realizing that she had missed something. "What?"

He frowned at her and it took a moment for him to realize she wasn't on the same track. "Maybe I don't get Christmas, maybe I never will get it, I don't know. What I do know is what it is to you, what it means, the way it makes you feel… that's what you are to me. It's only ever been you for me, Maria. And I'm ready to stop runnin' from the past. So…" he nodded to the box, "open it."

Her hand trembled as it moved over the smooth edges of the wood box. _Where had he gotten it?_

Michael watched as her fingertips traced the images carved into the surface and he looked away to scan over the room around them. She deserved so much more than this. She would have more, he decided as his gaze passed over the moose head hanging from the wall. He could just imagine her thoughts when she'd seen that monstrosity.

Maria's eyes were locked on the idyllic scene that had been painstakingly etched into the lid by someone who took pride in their work. It was easy to see it wasn't one of many in a line of replicas made by a machine. _When had he found the time to find something like this?_ She finally lifted her head to look at him, not surprised to see that the intensity in his eyes hadn't lessened. Her heart tripped over itself when he gave her a small smile. He grinned on occasion, smirked more often, but genuine smiles were rare and she had always treasured them the most.

It took her a moment to realize that he was holding his breath and her curiosity increased tenfold. She lifted the lid off and carefully set it aside before pausing to take in the soft tissue paper that surrounded his gift. The paper made a soft rustling sound as she gently separated the edges to reveal what had been hidden inside. Her palm rested on the quilt for a moment before she wrapped her fingers around it and lifted it up, her eyes widening as it unfolded to reveal the pattern.

Varying shades of blue decorated the material. It was a color he would pick out, although he'd never really shown much interest in the colors of just about anything she'd chosen to decorate their home in the past. She couldn't stop the internal eye roll as she thought back over the years. No, color didn't mean anything to him regardless of whether it was linens, rugs or clothes. For Michael it was about practicality, it always had been.

She forced her thoughts back to the present as she studied the gift. The quilt was handmade with a pattern of interlocking rings… the symbolism wasn't lost on her. She could remember seeing one on her grandparents' bed on a long-ago visit to them, one of only a handful of visits she'd ever had with them, and her grandmother's patient explanation of the design. She couldn't imagine Michael picking the quilt out for its warmth. Knowing him as she did, he would've quickly discounted the lightweight material as lacking and gone for something thicker, heavier, and guaranteed to make her break out in a sweat overnight. But he had purchased it, had taken the time to select it, which meant he must have… her fingertips traced over the interlocked ring design as she lifted her head to look at him again.

"Michael?" She held the edge of the quilt out towards him. "This… it's…" she shook her head. Now she was channeling him and his inability to form complete sentences at times. "It's a wedding quilt," she said slowly.

"Yeah, I was kinda hopin' it could be ours." He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck as he once again searched for the words he needed. "I'm not real good with fancy words and flowery declarations, Maria, but you deserve better than this," he said as his hand waved to indicate the room around them. "You always have and I know I don't… I don't always…" he cast about for the correct word, "provide – "

She pressed her fingers against his lips to stop the stilted explanation. "Michael, you've always been a good provider. Maybe sometimes it's been in a rather unorthodox manner, but you have always come through."

"That's not enough though." He got up and paced around the room. "For the past year you were makin' our house into a home, puttin' down roots and seein' a future and I…" his back teeth ground together in frustration, "I fought it because I don't know how to be… _that._ " He stopped moving and shoved his hands into his back pockets. "You know what my life was like as a kid." He took a deep breath. _In for a penny, in for a pound._ Kyle's words floated through his head and he wondered why the guy had to run around rattling off random quotes… and more importantly, why they stuck in his head.

Maria started to interrupt, to tell him he didn't need to revisit his past, but she realized that this was somehow important to him so she remained silent.

"What I'm tryin' to say is if you're willin' to forgive me for the past year," he cleared his throat, "and more importantly, the past forty-eight hours, then I'd like to take you back home." He ordered his feet to take him back to her side and he settled on the couch next to her, hesitating only a moment before he reached over and rested his hand over hers. "I didn't pick the blanket because it's warm." He snorted and shook his head. "Thing's too thin to be very warm." He cleared his throat and met her gaze, relief coursing through him when he saw the slightest hint of humor in their depths. "The thing is, I don't have a ring, but I thought the blanket could serve as a promise until I can get one."

She stared at him, sorting through everything that had happened and the complete one-eighty he had done on her. Relief and confusion intermingled with joy as she carefully placed the quilt back in the box, her fingertips lovingly tracing over the fine stitches that held the squares together with such delicate strength.

His words played over and over in her head. _"What I do know is what it is to you, what it means, the way it makes you feel… that's what you are to me. It's only ever been you for me, Maria."_ He didn't use words to express his emotions very often, but when he did the one thing she could be certain of was the sincerity behind them. It was apparent he'd had some kind of epiphany during the night and she couldn't help but wonder what it had been. She knew she wouldn't ask him about it no matter how curious she was though. She reached up to brush a tear away when it lost the battle with gravity to roll down her cheek. Whatever he had experienced it was bound to have been deeply personal and if one day he decided to share it she would be happy to listen, but it had to be his call.

Her continued silence was playing havoc with Michael's nerves. It took a conscious effort for him to remain unmoving. He had committed himself to being the man he wanted to be, the man she deserved, and he could only hope that he wasn't too late. The longer her silence dragged out though, the more room was created for his doubts to gain a foothold, and the thought that he had blown it became harder to ignore. He opened his mouth to apologize as a litany of _"I'm too late"_ began to run through his head. Before he could get the words out he realized she was speaking and his head snapped to the side to look at her.

"Michael, no," Maria said when she lifted her head and caught his expression. His features were open and so easy to read in that moment. "Your words, your gift, they're perfect, and I love you for it." Her eyes shone from the tears she had shed and a smile graced her lips when she paused. Her words were quiet when she spoke again, "I know I haven't helped much. I've been overly anxious and irritable for a while now. That's not exactly a mood that's conducive to encouraging conversation. I know it got worse as time went on, but when you walked out last night…" she drew in a deep breath and forced herself to verbalize her fears. "I thought…"

He didn't give her the time to finish the painful sentence. He knew what her fears were; they even had some in common. He moved closer to her, silencing her as he settled an arm around her shoulders. "No." He reached up with his free hand, brushing a few stray wisps of hair away from her face and meeting her gaze when her startled gaze flew to him. "Never, Maria. I would, I _will_ never – "

It was her turn to stop the flow of words with the press of her finger against his lips. She simply nodded and rested her forehead against his as she closed her eyes. "I know," she whispered. They understood each other. They had just gotten off track for a while. The fault didn't belong to either of them exclusively; they shared the blame for the mess they'd gotten themselves into. "I have a gift for you too." It took a minute for her to force herself to her feet, to leave the warmth of his embrace, but finally she got up and disappeared into the small bedroom.

Michael felt the weight of the past few months ease from his shoulders when she stepped back into the living area, a tentative smile on her face and a small box in her hands. The box had come from a local store where she had made their home. He recognized the name of the store emblazoned across the box that was tied with a simple red ribbon. He snorted even as he wondered what she could've found for him at that particular store that would fit in a box so small.

"Hockey World," she snorted back. "It's across the street from the pub you stop at after work sometimes." She shrugged. "I figured you had to have gone in there once or twice."

 _More than that if he were being honest,_ he thought as he awkwardly accepted the gift from her. He waited until she had settled down next to him again before he carefully grabbed one end of the ribbon and pulled it. The length of ribbon slithered to the floor unheeded and he lifted the lid off of the box, pushing the solid sky blue tissue paper out of the way to get to the gift inside. His hand wrapped around the familiar jersey material and he pulled it out, grasping it by the shoulders and holding it up to study it. His thumb traced over the lettering on the back, trying to figure out what the joke was. If she was going to go to the trouble of having his last name put on the hockey jersey it seemed like she would've gotten a much larger size.

He looked at her, his expression clearly confused, before shifting back to the jersey. Maybe she'd done the laundry and used the wrong temperature or setting or whatever by accident. He'd done it more than once and still hadn't figured out where the mistake had happened. She hadn't been amused when he'd managed to shrink several articles of her clothing but he couldn't recall it ever shrinking anything quite so much. He wasn't sure if he should make a joke or not. "It's um… kinda puny isn't it?"

The most beautiful smile he'd ever seen broke across her face and he had the brief thought that if his confusion got that kind of reaction out of her he'd be confused more often.

"Michael, read the front of the jersey."

He turned it around and held it up, eyebrows pulling together in a frown that eased up as the words passed his lips on a near-silent whisper. "Daddy's little hockey buddy." His mouth opened and closed several times as he tried to find his voice. "Maria?"

He looked at her when she released the breath she'd obviously been holding. She blushed and nodded with a hopeful smile.

"Wow…" He felt so inadequately able to verbalize his thoughts and his gaze dropped back to the tiny jersey, trying to visualize it on a baby… on _their_ baby. "So… we're uh…" He looked to her for confirmation.

"I've never done this before either but I think we can do it together," she said, feeling more confident with every passing moment.

Michael settled back on the couch next to her, feeling that familiar sense of belonging, of home, as her arms wrapped around him securely. He spread the jersey out over her thigh, staring at it as his hand came up to brush the material of her shirt aside to rest against her belly. A quiet fluttering sound reached his ears and after a moment it solidified into a rapid thumping and he smiled. "Yeah, we can do this." With Maria's hand gently combing through his hair and his baby's heartbeat coursing through him a feeling of peace settled over him and he closed his eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Part Seven**

He watched the movements of the people perusing the shop, his bushy brows twitching with every blink of his disinterested eyes. His eyes shifted to the side when small fingers curled around the wire of his cage door but a moment later the small body that went with the intrusive digits moved away, on to something more interesting. He sighed and wiggled his body around, settling more comfortably into the red plaid blanket that lined the corner he had chosen.

Gentle fingers stroked his head and he lifted his eyes to the man sitting beside him. He studied the kind gray eyes watching him and he whined sadly.

"You know she didn't want to leave you, Gabriel. She loved you enough to let you go because she was no longer able to take care of you."

Gabriel sighed and pushed his nose into the folds of the blanket, inhaling the familiar scent of his beloved mistress.

"No one will ever replace Edith in your heart." He chuckled when the small ears perked up at the mention of the name of the woman he had loved since the moment she first picked him up at the farm where he had been born. "But I promise you this: you will find a home with a family who will love you with all their hearts and in return you'll love them with the same fierceness." He stroked his agile fingers over the dog's white coat. "Our hearts weren't created with boundaries regardless of species."

The bell over the shop's door jangled melodically as yet another visitor entered to browse the available selection of animals. The little dog stood and turned in a circle before curling up in a tight ball as he stared at the back of the enclosure. He snuffled and blinked a couple of times before licking his right paw repeatedly.

"You'll see Edith again, Gabriel. Your new family will see to it."

Gabriel looked up at his companion for a moment and his tail thumped a couple of times before his attention returned to his paw.

"She wouldn't want you to be sad. It took everything she had to let you go." He ran his hand over the dog's head, slowly working his way down to his muzzle, and trailing his fingers over the paw receiving so much attention. "It would make her sad to see you so anxious." He smiled when the licking stopped. "It won't be much longer," he promised.

"… _name's Gabriel."_

He huffed a breath and curled up tighter. Every time they said his name some new person came to take him out of the enclosure and pick him up. He didn't want to be picked up, didn't want to be around new people. He wanted to go home to his mistress. He didn't understand why he was here, confined to this small space, all alone. He whined quietly and the gentle fingers returned to soothe him.

"You're not alone anymore, Gabriel."

"What's wrong with him?"

His head didn't move but his ears twitched at the gruff voice.

"He's suffering from separation anxiety. He was with his previous owner for seven years. She had to surrender him because she was at a point where she was no longer able to care for him. It broke her heart, poor thing," the shopkeeper said.

"Seven years," Michael muttered.

"Oh, don't let that put you off," she hurried to say before he could change his mind. "These little dogs are hearty and they often live to sixteen years of age."

"No, I'm not concerned about that," he denied. And he wasn't. Seven years was just a long time for anyone to be in a home and then to suddenly find themselves separated from their loved ones. For a dog it had to be terrifying. Especially in Gabriel's case – he'd been at the side of someone who loved him and showered him with affection.

"Oh." She smiled and rested a hand on the door of the enclosure. "Would you like to meet him?" Relief washed over her when he nodded without another word. "Gabriel hasn't shown much interest in anyone or anything since he came to us. It's only been a few days, but some of the dogs have a more difficult time adjusting. They just can't understand why they've been given up."

"Yeah, well…" Who could ever understand abandonment? No, Gabriel hadn't been abandoned in the true sense of the word, but it was what the dog was probably feeling. He watched the shopkeeper as she entered the enclosure, crooning to the little dog as she slowly approached him.

The dog tensed when the woman came closer. He just wanted to be left alone. He didn't want to be taken out so more people could touch him.

"It's time, Gabriel."

He lifted his head to look at his companion and he tipped his head to one side as he studied the man with the gentle gray eyes.

"Your new family's waiting to take you home. He's not used to dogs so be patient with him. He's not used to a lot of things that he'll be facing in the next year but trust me when I say he's a good person. He and Maria and the baby they'll have in a few months, they're all gonna love you so much." He winked as he gave the small dog one last rub between the ears. "And just remember, my friend, you'll see Edith again." He smiled as he stood. "C'mon now, it's time for you to go home with Michael."

Gabriel sat up and turned around, sniffing the air and catching the new scent. It was a familiar scent and yet different at the same time. It was the smell of home. He took a few tentative steps towards the open door, his head cocked to one side as he studied the man. His tail slowly moved back and forth a couple of times as he waited for… something.

Michael watched the dog curiously. He'd never had a pet, had never spent much time around dogs, but he could see the appeal. This one wasn't too big, wasn't too small, definitely wasn't a large black Labrador, but he knew he was perfect. He could see the intelligence in the dog's eyes as he waited and watched. He slowly crouched down, elbows resting on his knees as he snapped his fingers. "C'mere, Gabriel."

Gabriel barked and dodged past the shopkeeper, running straight to the man standing out in the corridor. He jumped up against the man's leg, his excited barks low and raspy.

"Down." He grinned when the little dog dropped down on all fours, watching him as he waited for his next command. "Sit." Gabriel immediately dropped to his haunches, tail sweeping the floor at an incredibly fast rate. "You're right about his training."

He talked to the shopkeeper for a while before they walked to the front so he could fill out the necessary paperwork to adopt the dog. Two hours later, armed with a ton of supplies and Gabriel proudly sporting his newly acquired collar and leash, they made their way to the door of the shop. He paused when the woman who had helped him through the entire process moved to one of the enclosures to check on a pair of cats that were up for adoption, hopefully together.

"It cost a lot to run a place like this?" he asked, watching her as she cradled the cat she had identified earlier as being the older one. Deaf, blind in one eye, she had expressed her worries that the duo wouldn't be adopted.

Apryl Jenkins smiled sadly as she turned to look at him. "More than it should, but we'll survive this year and give it our best the next."

He nodded. "What keeps it afloat?"

"Donations mostly." She smiled. "Some years are better than others."

He wondered if a certain organizational fanatic he knew could do anything to help out. If there was anyone who knew how to do stuff like that it was Isabel. Of course, Maria was no slouch in that area either. "You ever need, I dunno, volunteers or anything like that?"

"I welcome anyone who understands these animals and their plight to volunteer."

He nodded again. "I'll talk to my fiancé and get back with you." He nudged the door open and stepped out into the brisk morning breeze. He glanced up from loading everything into the car and froze when he caught a glimpse of a familiar face across the street. Gabriel followed his gaze and barked happily and Michael slowly smiled and waved at Alex as he disappeared.

"Okay, Gabriel, I hope you ride well in a car," he said as he opened the back door and set the dog down. "Move over." He smirked when Gabriel hopped over to sit on the drivers' side, head cocked and tongue hanging out as he watched him. He unfolded the plaid blanket and shook it out before laying it across the seat and snapping his fingers to let the dog know he could return to his seat.

It took him a good ten minutes to figure out how to correctly attach the tether to keep Gabriel safely harnessed. It said a lot that the dog sat there and patiently waited while he attached the straps multiple times before getting it right.

"Damn, if it takes this much work to get you strapped in, what's it gonna take to strap my kid in?" He leaned back and stared at the dog for a moment. His kid. He still wasn't sure that bit of life-altering information had completely sunk in. "It's okay, I got this." He watched the dog for a moment before stepping back and shutting the door.

Gabriel twisted and turned his head in an effort to keep the man in his sights, tongue hanging out as he panted. His breath caught and held for a moment when the door opened and Michael slid in behind the wheel. His head tipped to one side, studying every move the man made as he shifted around before starting the car.

"You don't get carsick do you?"

His ears perked up when he was spoken to and his bushy brows lifted as he gave a short bark under his breath.

"I'm gonna take that as a no." He turned and checked the mirrors before pulling out into the light traffic of late morning. He braked for a traffic light a couple of minutes later and glanced over his shoulder to check on the dog. A glimpse of something green caught his attention and his head jerked to the side to get a better look at it. A man was passing in front of the car holding the hand of a child animatedly talking his ear off, but it was the green sweater proudly displaying a grinning snowman that held his gaze. "Great sweater," he muttered under his breath.

The guy turned to look at him, a lopsided grin on his face as he nodded and waved. For a moment he wondered if the guy had somehow heard him and completely missed the sarcasm, but then he realized it was just appreciation for his patience. He could be Kyle's twin if not for that goofy smile and the pointed nose… and the blond military haircut. He shook his head. "Word of caution, Gabriel, never mix beer and cookies. It'll mess with your head." He chuckled and shook his head when the light changed and he eased off the brake.

Gabriel gave his raspy bark, happy to be acknowledged.

"Maria's gonna love you. I figure she won't care that you're vertically challenged. I dunno what was up with her choice of dogs but I don't think the breed was set in stone. See, it's all about stability and permanence. You get that. She gets it and me, well, I finally figured it out. With a little help, but I've got it now." He glanced in the rearview mirror, surprised to find the dog watching him. "Still not completely sure how all that works because you were there…" he paused, thinking, as he pulled into his driveway. "Huh… you were there." He studied the dog for a couple of minutes as they sat there in silence. Alex was the only one who could've possibly known about Gabriel. He shook his head. "Nevermind, I'm gonna get a headache if I try to figure that night out." He shut the car off and shouldered the door open.

"Maria's not home yet so we've got time to get everything set up." She'd gone to visit with Stephanie, some brunch thing, which he didn't get, but it worked out all the same. If he didn't know better he'd think the two of them hadn't seen each other in weeks instead of a matter of days. He rolled his eyes as he got out and went through the process of freeing Gabriel from the confines of the tether.

He snapped the leash to the collar and scooped the dog up. He turned around and set him on the ground, shrugging when Gabriel paused to look up at him as if to ask 'where to now?' His lack of response was apparently good enough because the snow-covered hedge that ran alongside the driveway suddenly became appealing.

Michael kept one eye on the dog while unloading all of the supplies he'd purchased, taking his time to give Gabriel time to sniff up and down the driveway several times. He quirked an eyebrow when the dog marked his territory for the third time. "Damn, how much water did you drink before we left?"

Gabriel just shook his head and barked as if he was answering the question.

Arms full, hand wrapped tightly around the leash, Michael took a moment to really stop and look at the house. The outline of the Christmas tree could be seen through the picture window but it wasn't lit. Maria insisted it was more magical at night when it was dark and the tree lights came to life. He still didn't get it, but it made her happy, so instead of his usual uninterested shrug he just smiled and nodded. He also didn't get why it was still up now that Christmas was over and done with, but apparently there was some rule about it staying up until the New Year. He wasn't sure if she was making that one up or not but he wasn't about to ask Isabel, the self-proclaimed know-it-all when it came to all things Christmas.

He studied the house as if he'd never seen it before, eyeing it critically and taking in the things he'd never paid any attention to. He couldn't see the flower beds that bordered the steps to run the length of the porch but he knew they were there just waiting for spring. He remembered blowing Maria off when she'd asked if he wanted to help, not realizing at the time that it was about more than digging up the ground. He let his gaze trail over the front porch and the furniture he'd declined to accompany her to pick it out. He looked at the windows and the curtains hanging in them, curtains she'd sewn herself, a task that would've surprised him if he'd taken a moment to give it some thought.

He turned his head when someone called out to him and he nodded to acknowledge one of their neighbors. Ray Peltier was an insurance salesman and he absolutely loved his job. Thankfully the guy was leaving otherwise he would've had to come up with a quick excuse because he enjoyed talking about anything and everything related to insurance. He had zero interest in sports unless the conversation happened to turn to figure skating – an event that Michael was certain would never qualify as a sport and he would certainly never be caught dead discussing.

His eyes scanned over the fence that bordered Ray's front yard for a moment. Maria had hinted around last summer that she thought a picket fence would be a nice addition, even asked his opinion, and he cringed as he recalled his response. He supposed it couldn't hurt. The older couple who owned the house had been pleased with every renovation Maria had made and they were always open to suggestions. They loved her – not that he found that very surprising – and had mentioned more than once that they'd be willing to sell the house to them on a rent-to-own basis.

Huh. It was something to think about. And the picket fence idea… he could talk Kyle into giving up a weekend. He wasn't so sure about Max. He'd be willing but the guy tended to be all thumbs when it came to projects that involved wood. He looked down when a slight weight settled on his left boot. Gabriel was shifting from one paw to the other, alternating by standing on his boot with every other shift.

It took him a moment to figure out the dog's feet were cold. "C'mon, let's get inside. You'll like the backyard. It's fenced so you'll be able to run around off the leash." On the porch he juggled the bags so he could unlock the door. "I guess your first priority will be to warm your feet up." He set everything down inside the small foyer and crouched down to unsnap the leash, giving the dog a good rub before standing up again.

"Okay, take a look around but behave yourself. I'm gonna go get the pen… cage… thing for you so we can get you all set up." He backed away and held a hand up. "I'll be right back."

Gabriel tipped his head to one side when the door closed behind Michael and after a moment he moved so that he could sniff the floor. He whined and took a couple of steps backwards, sitting down and staring at the door. A sound somewhere in the house startled him and his ears flicked back and forth in an attempt to locate it but it stopped and he was left alone in silence once again.

His ears snapped straight up when he heard footsteps on the porch and his body quivered with anticipation when the doorknob moved.

"You didn't go very far," Michael observed as he stomped the snow from his boots before coming inside. He sat down on the distressed hall tree to untie his boots and kick them off. He still didn't get the name of the piece of furniture but he had liked it as soon as he'd set eyes on it. They'd found it at an estate sale not long after they'd moved in and they'd made the decision to purchase it. He'd spent several months restoring it and he was proud of how well it had turned out.

Gabriel sat in front of him, eyes attentively watching every move he made while his tail swished back and forth on the hardwood floor.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Maria was singing along with the song playing on her iPod as she walked along the sidewalk on her block. She and Stephanie had lingered over brunch, indulging in Italian crepes with side salads while discussing the men in their lives, their jobs, a wide variety of other topics, and of course, her recent engagement. She hadn't shared the news about her pregnancy since she wanted Liz to be the first of her friends to know. Michael had agreed to getting together with everyone in a couple of weeks so she was content to hold onto that news for now.

She had called Michael a couple of hours ago, checking in to see if he needed her to come home, and he'd sounded a little harried but insisted she take her time and enjoy herself. She had no idea what he was doing, but she'd taken him at his word and done just that. She wondered if he'd be willing to have Stephanie and her boyfriend over for dinner one night. They had come over before but on the rare occasion he hadn't found an excuse to not be there he had managed to interact with the couple as little as possible. He had never been overtly rude about it but he hadn't made any secret of the fact that he'd rather be anywhere but spending time with the other couple.

Things were so much better between them now that they had laid all their cards on the table but she wasn't about to just assume that meant he'd be happy to host couples' night at their house. Michael wasn't an introvert, but she had no grand illusions that he was ever going to be a social butterfly. He interacted with people fine as long as it was in small increments of time – and as long as they didn't grate on his nerves. He had a low tolerance for anything he perceived as stupidity.

She smiled, pausing between songs as she drew in a deep breath and looked around her familiar neighborhood. It wasn't as close to the others as she'd like but it had become home and she wasn't in any rush to leave it. Maybe one day Michael would be comfortable enough to give buying their home serious consideration, but for now he was as content as she'd ever seen him. He still hadn't said much of anything about what had happened that night at the cabin, and maybe he never would, but whatever it was he was at peace with himself and that was enough for her.

She held her hands out at her sides, watching the snowflakes decorate her gloves for a moment. She brought her right hand in closer, examining the crystalline shapes and wondering briefly if it was true that no two snowflakes were ever alike. How could they really know that? She stuck her tongue out to catch a few snowflakes, thinking back to one of the rare times snow had fallen in Roswell. She and Liz and Alex had stayed outside doing that very thing until they were nearly frozen and even then they hadn't wanted to go inside.

She laughed for the pure joy of it. For so long she'd had a difficult time enjoying memories of him and then one day inexplicably, that dark cloud had lifted and she'd been able to remember him with a fond smile. She was grateful for that and sometimes she wondered if he'd had a hand in it. She wouldn't be the least bit surprised if he had; it would be such an Alex thing to do.

Her house came into view and she took a moment to savor the view. Michael would always be her home in a way no four walls could ever be, but this simple little house had come to represent so much more than just a residence. It was their home and she exhaled slowly, loving the way it felt to be returning to it once more. She began walking again, suddenly needing to be inside with Michael… her fiancé. _Yeah, that wasn't gonna get old anytime soon,_ she thought with a face-splitting grin. The sidewalk had been recently shoveled and salted, making her walk up to the porch free of slick spots. He'd been extra careful since learning of their impending parenthood and she had to admit she did enjoy the attention. Yes, there would be days when she knew that was going to drive her nuts, but for now she had every intention of soaking it up.

Eventually things would return to their normal and he'd be back to leaving his wet towels on the bed, dirty dishes in the sink without even rinsing them, and leaving the toilet seat up, so she would just take advantage of this brief vacation from the norm. She shut the door behind her and stomped her feet in an effort to get the blood circulating again while getting out of her outer gear.

She heard her fiancé speak from the next room but she couldn't make out what he was saying.

"Michael?" She reached out to brace her hand against the wall for balance while she worked off her stubborn left boot.

"In the living room," he hollered back. "How was lunch?"

"Brunch," she corrected automatically and could just imagine him rolling his eyes. She knew he didn't get the point and she had long ago stopped trying to explain it. "And it was great." Finally freed from the trappings of the necessary extra layers of clothing she headed for the living room. "Hey, what would you think about having Stephanie and Paul over for dinner next Saturday?"

"Next Saturday?" he muttered from his crouched position across the room. "There's a big game on Saturday, Maria."

"Well, Paul likes hockey too."

He growled under his breath. "He likes to _talk_ , Maria."

She rolled her eyes when he stood and turned around, his movements awkwardly stilted. "So? Kyle runs his mouth from the start of a game to the end of it and you don't complain."

"Hello, I can tell him to shut up and he doesn't take offense. Besides, most of the time his talkin' is nothin' more than him spittin' out Buddhist chants or prayers or whatever. Not to mention I can just tune him out."

"So basically if it helps your team it's an acceptable aggravation."

"Paul likes to _talk_. Not yell at the refs, not y'know, do whatever the hell it is Valenti does, not…"

"Look, I get it, okay? He's not Kyle. But if you give him a chance I think you'll realize that he really is pretty likeable."

Michael made a face. "Maria, we're not gonna be BFFs and sit around braiding each other's hair and painting our toenails." He shifted when he felt a slight movement behind him.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Fine, we'll have dinner with them but if he doesn't shut his trap while I'm watchin' the game - "

She smiled when he gave in, even if it wasn't exactly gracious. "Michael, what're you hiding?"

"Nothin'." He shrugged one shoulder. "Kinda got you a present." He motioned to the chair that sat directly across from him. "Sit down over there."

"Okay," she said slowly and took a seat. "I'm not sure…" her eyes widened when a small white whiskered face peered around his left leg. "Oh, Michael!"

He frowned and looked down at Gabriel. "You weren't supposed to do that."

"Oh, Michael, he's precious."

The resulting eye roll was lost on Gabriel as he wagged his tail and took a tentative step forward. He had been immediately intrigued by the softer voice, drawn to its owner by the lyrical speech pattern. He canted his head and his nose twitched as he sought out the new scent, catching it and feeling the familiar sense of… home.

He stepped out from behind Michael, taking a couple of steps before looking up at him, waiting for him to speak.

"What're you waitin' for?" Michael shook his head and nodded at Maria. "You're her dog, not mine." He sighed when he was answered by a short, raspy bark and an enthusiastic tail wag. "Well? You've got ten seconds before I change my mind and take you back."

Gabriel jumped up to rest his front paws on the leg closest to him, blinking rapidly when the fringe over his eyes blocked his sight. He shook his head and snorted, dropping back to all fours when movement across the room caught his attention.

"What's his name?"

"Gabriel."

"Gabriel," Maria murmured softly.

"Yeah, well, that's the name he came with."

"No, it's perfect, Michael." She smiled when her fiancé did his best to send the dog to her. "Don't rush him. He'll come to me when he's ready."

"It's a dog, Maria."

"He's more than just a dog." She held her hand out towards the small dog, waiting patiently for him to make up his mind. She couldn't believe Michael had actually gone out and got a dog. "What made you pick him?"

He just shrugged. The only way to tell her that would be if he told her everything that had happened to him that night. And he wasn't ready to go there. Wasn't sure he ever would be, truth be told. Maria was curious, but she wouldn't push. They understood each other that way.

Gabriel approached her slowly, his wagging tail picking up momentum as he came closer to her. He sniffed her fingertips before giving them an experimental lick and after a moment he rested his muzzle in her hand. His whole body quivered with joy when she started to talk to him while running her free hand over his coat.

"Where'd you find him?"

"The shelter on Main. Lady who owns the place needs volunteers to help out." He watched Gabriel while Maria was lavishing attention on him. The dog was eating it up. "Told her you'd give 'er a call."

"Did you now?" Maria smiled to herself. "Well, I might just do that. I'll bet Gabriel would love to help out, wouldn't you?"

Michael winced when her voice changed pitch – the one most women seemed to use when talking to babies and animals. "You're not gonna talk to our kid like that are you?"

She lifted her head to pin him with a look. "Like what?"

"I dunno, like a mouse from one of those cartoon movies."

She decided to not be offended by his description. It was just Michael being… well, Michael. "Is Gabriel housetrained?"

"What?" It took him a moment to catch up with the sudden change of subject. "Yeah, of course he is. He knows a bunch of commands too. I set his cage up, put his bowls out, and put his blanket in the cage. It's old, but the lady at the shelter said he came in with it and it helps him feel safe or somethin'."

"Of course it does. It probably belonged to his previous owner. Did she say why he was surrendered?"

"He belonged to an old woman and she hit a point where she couldn't take care of him any longer. She was goin' into one of those homes for old people."

She decided not to comment on his phrasing. "Oh, that's so sad." She searched the dog's deep brown eyes. "She must miss you terribly." She scratched behind his left ear when he whined as if he understood her. "You must miss her so much. Do you know her name?"

He frowned at the question. "Why?"

"Because I want to know, Michael."

"I dunno, Edith something or other."

She smiled when Gabriel's head snapped to the side at the mention of the beloved name. "Edith, so that's her name."

Michael shook his head when he caught the gleam in his fiancé's eyes. "No. Maria, we're not gonna go lookin' her up. Just leave her alone and let 'er rest in peace."

"The woman's in a retirement home, not the cemetery, Michael."

He shuddered at the thought of walking into one of those places – the home, not the cemetery. Back in high school he'd told his History teacher that old people creeped him out. Well, that still held true. He didn't really know why, they just did. Maybe it was the wrinkles that made them look like clothes left in the dryer too long. Maybe it was the way they could be so still. Or, then again, maybe it was the way they seemed to know what you were thinking before you even said a word. Whatever it was, they gave him the creeps.

"I'll bet she'd give just about anything to see this little guy again. And think about what it would mean to her to be able to see for herself that he's found a good home." Gabriel rose up to place his front paws on her knees and then bounced around excitedly. "Where're his treats?"

"Treats?" It was a dog. They were supposed to feed it, water it and walk it. Nobody said anything about treats for it.

Maria rolled her eyes at him and got up to go into the kitchen. If by some miracle he made it past the living room with purchases of any kind they invariably ended up in a pile on the kitchen floor. "Well, I'm not sure that's progress," she said when she saw the pet-related products strewn across every available surface. Some of the packages were opened and the logo on several of the bags indicated that he'd stopped by the larger pet store across town – which made sense because she knew supplies would be limited at the shelter. She shook her head at some of the purchases – things some overeager employee had convinced the confused new dog owner he needed for his new pet.

She listened absently while Michael carried on a one-sided conversation with Gabriel while she sorted through the items, collecting a good number of them and placing them back in the bags to be returned to the store the next day for a full refund. She knew how Michael was when it came to shopping – get in, grab what was necessary, and get back out in as little time as possible. He had probably just filled the cart with whatever the knowledgeable store employee insisted he needed and rushed to get back out. She knew he'd never had a pet of any kind before so a trip to the biggest pet store in the city would have been overwhelming for him. She shook her head at the odd assortment of products and snatched up a crumpled wad of paper, knowing it would be the receipt. She straightened it out and nearly choked when she saw the total printed at the bottom – further proof that the love of her life had probably told the store employee off and then hit the door as fast as he could.

"Overkill?"

She turned to look over her shoulder at Michael. "Yeah, but most of it we can take back with no problem." She looked away before she could laugh at his horrified expression. He'd probably never set foot in a pet store again. "I'll take care of it."

"What's for dinner?"

"Gabriel's snack first."

"I fed him a while ago, doesn't that count?"

"Not even close, buddy." She reached for a box of snack bones and shook them, not surprised when Gabriel appeared next to Michael, sitting at attention with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. She opened the box and selected one of the treats, bending over and holding it up. "Sit up, Gabriel." She smiled when he immediately responded to the command. "You're a good boy, aren't you?"

Michael rolled his eyes. "You're givin' him food; of course he's gonna be good." He snorted. "Give me food and I'll be good too."

Maria gave Gabriel his treat and then straightened up, fishing another dog biscuit out and handing it to her fiancé. "Let's see how good you can be."

He stared at the bone shaped treat, wondering what flavor orange was. He shrugged and took a bite of it, chewing thoughtfully for a minute just to enjoy the shocked look on her face. "Kinda dry," he said after a while.

"You do know that was disgusting." She held a hand out, pressing it against his chest when he started to move closer. "No, if you think you're getting a kiss after that you'd better think again. Brush those teeth first."

He shrugged. "The green ones are probably better anyway."

She shook her head and looked at Gabriel when Michael left to go brush his teeth. "He only does things like that to get a rise out of me."

Gabriel barked and his tail started to wag. She slid down to sit on the floor, patting her leg and letting the small dog climb up and sit on her lap. "You're not exactly what I had in mind, but you're perfect. And I promise you, we'll take you to see Edith."

Michael paused in the doorway, leaning one shoulder against the jamb to watch the pair. They were a good match and Maria was already in love with the dog. From the looks of it that went both ways and he couldn't be happier. When she looked up and curled her finger in a 'come here' gesture he pushed away from the frame and moved to join her on the floor.

"Thank you," she whispered and leaned in to kiss him.

Gabriel watched the couple, comforted by the love that surrounded him. He barked once, quietly, and got up to wander off and explore his new home. When he grew tired of looking around he made his way to his crate and curled up in his familiar blanket. His new family would find him when they were ready and he sighed contentedly before closing his eyes and going to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Part Eight**

Michael stared up at the house with a feeling of utter discomfort. Christmas lights twinkled merrily from the windows and the larger outdoor lights swayed slightly from the eaves, casting multicolored patches across the snow-covered bushes that surrounded the front porch. The festive illumination did nothing to detract from the fact that the house looked like something out of a horror movie.

"Isn't it picturesque?"

He turned to look at Maria, wondering if she was looking at the same thing he was.

"It's so much nicer than the impersonal facilities that have become so popular. It has such a homey feel to it." She looked down at Gabriel, smiling at him. He was such a personable little dog and she loved him so much.

He had no idea why she thought that. The façade of the house notwithstanding, she hadn't even been inside yet. "Yeah, maybe if you're Dracula. Or Norman Bates."

That earned him a smack to his arm with the back of her hand. "Mrs. _Bateman_ ," she stressed the woman's name, "runs this place and I've talked to several people who are familiar with it and it has a very good reputation." The house was a large old Victorian that housed a dozen elderly residents. "Places like this allow elderly people who have no one to maintain their dignity while being cared for."

"And that's great, Maria, it really is, but why do we have to be here?"

"Because Edith gave us a wonderful gift and she should know that Gabriel's found a home where he's cared for and loved."

"I don't know why you can't just send her a letter or somethin'," he grumbled.

"We should go inside. Mrs. Bateman said they welcome visitors to join them to ring in the New Year – "

"Yeah, I'm sure it'll be a blast." He shook his head. "This's gonna be worse than New Years' at the Crashdown."

Maria rolled her eyes at him. "You never even worked that shift so how would you know?"

"Pounding headache and heightened auditory senses while a bunch of ancients wailed their version of a song, okay?"

"That was your fault, pal."

He ground his back teeth together at the reminder of what had driven him to drink that night. Okay, in the grand scheme of things, it really was his fault… but what was a guy supposed to do when the girl he loved was yanking him around like a yo-yo and then let some other guy cop a feel? They'd argued that out before and while she had a point that alcohol wasn't the answer, she hadn't agreed that his answer – punching the guy attached to the offending hand, was the proper response.

He looked down when he felt pressure on his left boot and he realized that Gabriel was doing his best to stand on his foot.

"Michael, his feet are cold."

"You're the one doin' all the talkin'." He bent down to pick the dog up and motioned for her to get a move on. If they absolutely had to do this he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

"You do realize you're insufferable when you wanna be, right?" She rolled her eyes at his expression. "That was _not_ meant as a compliment."

He shrugged and followed her as she took the sidewalk up to the front porch. He put Gabriel down as soon as they reached the top step and he hung back while Maria approached the door. The little dog had no such qualms about avoiding the people inside the haunted house. He shook his head at the tail snapping back and forth, the bushy brows animated as he danced from one foot to the other in excitement. He wondered if it was possible the dog actually knew why they were there.

Movement from the corner of his eye had his right hand shooting out to grab hold of his fiancé's arm. "What're you doin'?" he hissed.

Maria motioned to the doorknob she had been in the process of reaching for when he had so rudely interrupted her. "It's customary to open the door and go inside when you're paying someone a visit and it's generally looked upon as incredibly rude if you skulk around on the front porch while paying a visit to… well… anyone."

The door suddenly swung open and Maria took a step back out of surprise. She was quick to press her hand to Michael's chest, holding him back before he could shove her out of the way to face off with the perceived threat.

"I thought I heard someone out here." The woman smiled widely. "You must be Maria and Michael! I'm Dolores Bateman. Welcome to Barrister Home. C'mon inside, it's freezing out here." She stepped back and ushered them into the foyer. "Oh, my goodness!" She clasped her hands together as she looked down and noticed their four-legged companion. "This little man must be Gabriel."

 _Little man? Apparently he was the only one who realized Gabriel was a dog._ He was just about to roll his eyes when Maria's elbow insinuated itself rather forcefully into his ribcage. He tuned out the conversation between the women, hurriedly shrugging out of his coat when the Bates woman grabbed hold of the collar and started pulling. He narrowed his eyes at Maria when she just stood there with a big grin on her face at his predicament. She was enjoying this entirely too much.

"Edith will be so pleased to see all of you."

"Has she had any visitors today?" Maria asked as she hung her own coat up.

"No, I'm afraid not. Her closest friend passed recently and she has no family nearby. I felt so bad that she wasn't able to bring her dog, but unfortunately we're unable to accommodate pets at this time."

Michael frowned. "But they can visit on holidays?"

"Oh, they can visit anytime. We're just not able to keep them onsite on a permanent basis right now. I'm hoping to change that rule someday, but I've at least been able to get authorization to allow visits." She reached down to let Gabriel sniff her hand, petting him when he responded to her favorably. "And I think he'll be just the medicine Edith needs to brighten up her day."

"It must be so hard on her to go from being independent to being dependent on others," Maria said sympathetically.

"It's probably one of the hardest things any of us ever have to do and it's compounded by the loss of pets and the dwindling visits from family and loved ones. Too often their lives are shortened by the loss of the will to live."

Michael shifted from one foot to the other and shoved his hands in his pockets. This was not a conversation he wanted to hear. He glanced down when Gabriel sat on his left foot. He had no idea what the dog's fascination with his feet was but he was always standing or sitting on them.

"Well, I'm sure you're eager to see Edith. I didn't tell her about your visit."

Michael's brows pulled down in a frown. "Why not?" Was it smart to spring a visit on the old woman? Hell, the shock could knock her ticker out of whack and then they'd be responsible for her keeling over.

Dolores smiled, taking no offense at his sharp question. "If you hadn't been able to show up for any reason it would've just broken her heart. She's in her room. Top of the stairs, second door on your right. Her door's open so she's receptive to visitors."

 _Great, send them to the old woman's room to scare the hell out of her,_ Michael thought as he gave Gabriel a nudge.

"Shhh," Maria whispered as she motioned to Gabriel.

Michael had to wonder if the dog really did understand her because while his eyebrows danced and that tail snapped back and forth, he remained quiet and attentive to Maria. The moment she tapped her fingertip against the leash he was up and on the move, taking his place beside her. She held her hand out to him and he took it, joining her and Gabriel as they made their way to the staircase that led to the second floor.

"Smells like mothballs and medicine," he muttered under his breath, tightening his grip on his fiancé's hand to avoid another smack for his commentary.

"Cut it out!" she hissed and jerked on his hand for emphasis. Her attention immediately refocused on the newest member of their family. "Just look at him, Michael. He knows she's close."

He shrugged and kept walking, keeping his eyes on Gabriel. The little dog's nose was twitching as his head turned one way and then another. He wondered if there was any possibility the dog could actually detect his former owner's scent amidst the overwhelming scents of medicine, mothballs and enough ancient perfume to choke a horse.

Gabriel suddenly paused, right front foot frozen mid-step. His breath caught and held for several moments as he cocked his head from one side to the other, searching for a familiar sound. It was quiet, nearly inaudible, but to him it was as loud as a shot. He began to breathe again, his heart pounded at the realization that _she_ was here, and he took a couple of steps forward before he remembered he wasn't alone. His bright eyes lifted as he unerringly connected with the woman at his side, pleading with her to understand the urgent anticipation thrumming through his small body.

Maria smiled at him. "He knows she's here. Take us to Edith, Gabriel." She started walking again, pulling Michael with her.

He glanced at the plaque next to the door, the words Bridal Veil carved into the wood. He reached out to trace over the letters, calligraphy if he wasn't mistaken, and he couldn't help but admire the craftsmanship. It was quality work and it hadn't been manufactured by a machine. His fingertips moved to the far end of the plaque to admire the waterfall scene etched into the wood. He turned his head to look at the door across the hall, eyes moving over the plaque that rested next to it: Sunwapta. The rooms were named for Canadian waterfalls and the scenes were probably images of those same falls, he realized when the names struck a chord of familiarity.

An unsubtle jab from Maria's elbow had him shifting his attention back to their destination. He peered over her shoulder to look into the room and it only took a moment to locate its occupant. The old woman was sitting in a rocking chair, her wrinkled hands pinning a photo album to her lap as she stared out through the window. Her window didn't face the street so she couldn't have seen them come up to the house.

Even though he could only see her profile he recognized her as the woman who had walked right though him while Alex had been haunting him. She looked different at the same time though; smaller somehow, frail… lifeless. That thought sent a shudder racing through his tall frame and he would've given just about anything to get out of there as fast as his legs could carry him.

Gabriel tossed his head and gave his raspy bark but it was subdued, as if he was picking up on the old woman's mood. He didn't know what made him do it, but he bent over and unsnapped the leash from the dog's collar, turning him loose to race across the room. His bark picked up volume, joyous as it echoed off of the walls, and just as the old woman turned her head to look for the source of the sound, Gabriel launched himself into her arms.

Maria rushed into the room, reaching to catch the photo album as it was dislodged, and managing to keep it from falling to the floor. She stepped back and carefully set the album down on a nearby table. Tears caused her vision to swim as she watched the reunion, thankful they had brought Gabriel to visit.

"Oh, Gabriel," Edith whispered as she hugged him tightly. She looked up at the couple, smiling tremulously as she motioned to the couch across from her. "Please, have a seat."

"I hope we're not imposing," Maria started only to be interrupted by the old woman's waving hand.

"Honey, at my age a visitor is never an imposition unless it's an insurance salesman," she chuckled. "How did you know where to find me?"

"The woman at the shelter mentioned you and Gabriel gets so excited when he hears your name. We just had to find you. And when we called Mrs. Bateman invited us to come out for New Year's so we thought it'd be the perfect time to bring him for a visit."

Gabriel pressed closer to Edith and rested his muzzle on her arm, sighing contentedly as his hyper body relaxed against her. His tail was still in constant motion, sweeping back and forth, and his eyes were alight with happiness. His gaze bounced between the three of them, listening as introductions were made.

The old woman smiled as she looked at the recently engaged couple. The younger woman had introduced herself and her silent fiancé, her features animated as she spoke. She hadn't mentioned their engagement being new, but it was evident by the way she constantly turned the ring on her finger. It was apparent she wasn't used to its slight weight yet. "Was he a gift?" she asked with a nod at Gabriel.

"Yes, Michael found him and surprised me with him just a few days ago."

Michael shifted uneasily when the old woman turned her gaze on him. She was going to speak to him, he just knew it.

"So you're the one Gabriel chose." She nodded and ran a hand fondly over the dog's head. "It's like that, you know. People think they choose their companions, but the truth is when it's right, they choose us." Her fingertip traced over the blue velvet collar her beloved Gabriel was wearing. "I remember the day I went out to the farm to look at the puppies. There were so many other people there, people who were younger, families, folks who had arrived earlier to look them over. When I saw him I just knew he was the one but there was someone else who had taken notice of him and she was reaching down to pick him up. My heart just stopped because in those situations it's generally first come, first serve. But do you know, he just jumped out of her arms before she could get him more than a few inches off of the ground and he ran straight to me." She hugged him again. "Oh, and he gave me such joy. I only hope I gave him the same in return."

Maria leaned forward and reached out to rest her hand on Edith's. "I think it's safe to say the give and take was a two-way street. He's such a wonderful addition to our family."

"Thank you," she whispered before turning her attention back to Michael. "How did he choose you?"

Michael shifted and reached up to pull at his collar. Why did she want to talk to him? And why did she have to ask _that_ question? "He, uh, he got loose from the woman at the shop and set up camp on my foot."

Edith laughed in delight. "Oh, he does that when his little feet get cold. He won't do that with just anyone though. He's a very discerning little fellow. He's very sensitive to his surroundings and you'll notice he picks up on moods very easily."

Maria had been able to pick up on Michael's moods for a long time now and she could tell he wasn't comfortable with the old woman's questions. She picked up a framed picture on the table next to her, tracing a finger over the man's uniformed and decorated image. "Is this your husband?"

"Yes." She smiled warmly. "Captain Jedediah Selkirk, Royal Canadian Navy." She looked up when someone knocked on her door. "Good evening, Samuel." Her tone was polite but lacked invitation.

"The party's in full swing downstairs," he said gruffly. "The new hip's working beautifully. I'm saving you a dance."

"Hmph." She made a shooing motion with her right hand, hoping to move him along.

Michael tried to bite back a laugh and ended up snorting instead. Just the image of what the party must be like with a bunch of geriatric dancers dragging their canes and walkers across the floor was just too funny to ignore. Add in the geezer trying to put the moves on Edith and the laugh factor notched up. The look Maria shot him let him know she didn't find it humorous. At all. He couldn't wait to see Kyle. If anyone would get just how funny this was, it would be him.

"Hey, funny boy, give me a hand getting downstairs."

He frowned and looked at Samuel as if he'd suddenly grown a second head. "Say what?"

"And here I thought my hearing was bad." Samuel exhaled loudly in exasperation. "You kids today. Help an old man down the stairs."

He was just about to decline when Maria gave him a nudge. "Go on, help him."

"You don't want Maria to help him, Michael," Edith spoke up. She shot a disapproving glare in Samuel's direction. "He's a pincher."

He growled under his breath and got to his feet, giving Maria a look that warned her that payback would be coming her way. "Samuel, if you get any ideas about pinching my ass they're gonna have to replace a hand in addition to that hip." He drew back when the old man burst out laughing… at least he assumed that's what the sound was supposed to be. It was actually somewhere between a wheeze and a hacking cough.

The old man wasn't the least bit put out by Michael's growled warning. He just latched onto his arm and pulled him towards the door. "You see the names on the rooms? Know what they are?"

Maria's eyebrows rose when Edith covered her face with her hand and shook her head. She obviously knew what was coming.

"Yeah, waterfalls. So?"

"They put me in the Horseshoe room, but I keep tellin' 'em they named it wrong. Man my age, prostate nearly the size of my fist, you know what they should've named my room?"

"I figure any waterfall should work under those conditions." They slowly made their way over to the stairs.

"No, I put my suggestion in but they refused to give me a plaque. Are you ready for it?" He waggled his bushy white eyebrows over his glasses. "Pissing Mare Falls." And he was off on another laughing fit.

Maria cringed when their voices carried and her fiancé laughed right along with the old man. Leave it to Michael to find someone just as juvenile as he was in a man as old as Samuel.

"Sometimes I think no matter how old they get they never grow up," Edith said and shook her head. She smiled at Maria as she reached for her cane and slowly got to her feet. "It might be wise if we don't leave them together for too long."

"I'm not sure which of them would be the worst influence on the other," she said as she stood and joined the old woman as she carefully crossed the room. "I'd love to hear about your husband sometime if you wouldn't mind a visit once in a while."

"Honey, I'd love a visit from you and your young man. You're welcome to come by any time."

"Mrs. Bateman said we'd be able to bring Gabriel by for visits. And now that Michael's met someone whose mental age is close to his it might not be next to impossible to drag him along."

She chuckled and patted Maria's arm. "Not everyone's comfortable around the elderly. He tries for you and that says a lot about his character." She smiled. "Of course, the fact that Gabriel chose him, that also says a lot about him."

Michael turned when he reached the bottom of the staircase, nodding at something Samuel said before his attention shifted and locked on Maria. She was beautiful as she gracefully descended the stairs next to Edith, the two of them smiling and conversing. She embraced life, welcomed the future; ran headlong into it with a passion he loved but didn't always understand. He had no experience at approaching things with that same zest, but he vowed to do his best to make sure she never lost it. He tipped his head to one side, studying Gabriel when he lifted his head to look at something and he turned to see what it was.

Maria ran a hand over Gabriel's head, ducking down a bit to follow his gaze, and freezing for a moment when she caught sight of a familiar face beside the Christmas tree. Tall and lanky with a smile so achingly familiar, Alex stood there for just a moment before he waved and then slowly disappeared.


End file.
